


like your french girls

by ebenroot



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Artist AU, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, M/M, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and pining victor, i just love awkward humor guys, victor is yuri's #annoyingbigbrother, yuuri is still a figure skater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 102,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebenroot/pseuds/ebenroot
Summary: "Victor," Yuri begins, lowering the eighteenth sketch of the figure skater Victor drew this week, "you have a fucking problem."--in which Victor is an artist, Yuuri is his figure skating muse, and Yuri is so done hearing about their stupid love story through Instagramtranslated into Chinese,  Russian, and Spanish





	1. begging for attention, hoping for some tension

**Author's Note:**

> guys i tried SO HARD to hold off on writing this because i hate writing a story that might not portray the characters right and it's still really early in this fracking series so their personalities might change and characterization is just difficult for me bUT I CANT HELP IT OTL 
> 
> chapter title is *sorta* from 'Stop Desire' by Tegan & Sara and also this chapter is so freaking long and unbeta'd I'm so sorry jfc OTL x2
> 
> aaand i'm not an ice skater i tried to research it to the best of my ability, but at the end of the day I'm still a spaz and i still might have just screwed up the ice skating scenes so OTL x1000000

One phrase can be used to currently describe Victor Nikiforov in this current present time: ‘absolute hot mess’.

In this current present time, Victor Nikiforov has artblock. The kind of crippling artblock that has him start a piece in his sketchbook to only to stop halfway through and angrily discard it when he can’t visualize the final product.

At least Makkachin is enjoying himself by chasing after the balled up pieces of paper Victor throws away in frustration, so there’s one positive to this annoying mental block of his.

There’s a steadfast mountain of failed attempts at producing actual art growing in the corner of Victor’s studio apartment, overflowing his wastebasket and spilling out onto the floor. Victor tells himself that he needs to really clean up around here, but every time he looks at Mount Failure in the trashcan, he is overwhelmed with a feeling close to self-hatred and a desire to drown himself in booze.

Victor rolls onto his stomach and breathes out a heavy sigh. He’s been lying on the floor in the hopes that maybe he’ll just close his eyes and suddenly awaken with his mind brimming with ideas to paint and sketch. So far, he’s only gotten a pain forming in his lower back and Makkachin licking at his face to check that his owner hasn’t died from a lack of creative spirit.

He pushes himself onto his knees and squints his eyes at the clock. It’s getting late. . .he hasn’t even taken Makkachin out for his walk or started cooking dinner. He groans and rubs his face with his palms, dragging his fingers down his cheeks and resting his hands on his lap. Makkachin places his front paws over the back of Victor’s hands, panting and wagging his tail.

Victor smiles. “Ready for your walk, huh?” he asks. Makkachin barks and licks his face for an enthusiastic ‘yes!’.

Victor gets to his feet and goes to grab his jacket that’s hanging on the hook and slips on his shoes. He also grabs a small notepad and charcoal pencil in the off chance that _something_ will catch his eye on their walk. He also grabs his wallet because he honestly doesn’t feel like cooking anything at all and will rather get take out so he can hurry up, eat, and eventually rejoin his ‘I lost my inspiration and my passion for art’ crisis. 

Keys in hand, he whistles for Makkachin and both depart from the messy studio and out into the night air.

 

* * *

 

The city landscape and bright lights of the shops does absolutely nothing to spark Victor’s inspiration. There’s no spark and no bursting need for him to grab his notepad and draw until his fingers ached and could no longer hold a pencil. He grabs some takeout from a food cart in the park, and does some minor sketches of joggers on the trail in between bites of his food. They’re relatively simple and more gesture practice than actual drawings. It only shows him that he hasn’t gotten rusty during this long drought of inspiration, but it doesn’t make him feel any better about himself.

Once he fills the entire first page of gesture drawings and small bits of scenery surrounding him, he tucks the notepad back into his pocket and rises from the bench that he was sitting on.

“Another dull night,” Victor complains aloud to no one in particular. He feels Makkachin nuzzle against his leg and he reaches down to run his fingers through Makkachin’s curly fur. “Okay, come on then,” Victor calls out and Makkachin barks in agreement.

They continue down the path through the park, over the hill overlooking the outdoor skating rink. It’s late, so they do not come across many people during their stroll. The lack of people should give Victor needed silence to focus on creating something, but it just reminds him that reality too is bleak and boring like his current art style.

Christophe isn’t going to pay for this crap that Victor is producing. But Victor doesn’t know what to do to make _something_ worthy appear on paper in front of him. The ideas shut down before Victor can even get a concept of what they can be, and he finds himself staring at blank canvases more often than he likes.

They make their descent down the hill and Victor glances over to the skating rink. During the daytime, the rink is filled to the brim with young children learning to skate with their families. As the evening rolls in, couples flock to the rink for dates and groups of kids from the nearby college come to hang out. Tonight, however, there’s only one person out on the ice.

From this distance, Victor can’t see their face all that well. But there’s something about how they move on the ice that belongs all to themselves. They move languid and slow, losing themselves in their thoughts and the music playing through their headphones on their head.

Victor draws closer to the rink, mildly captivated by the sight. He reaches the far southern wall as the figure – he sees now that it’s a young man – glides backwards and then sharply turns on the inside edge of his skate. He runs his hands down the sides of his body and Victor’s breath hitches in his chest at the movement, slow and sensual.

The man runs his hands back up and wraps his arms around himself, pushing forward with his right foot to gain some speed. His throws one arm up as he goes into a right forward outside counter and exits backwards on his right inside edge, holding one hand to his earphones to keep them steady. Triple turn, cross over with the left, triple turn and Mohawk from the back inside edge. Makkachin is bracing himself up against the wall, trying to see what it is that has Victor practically halfway over the wall as his owner marvels at the skater’s movements.

He hasn’t seemed to notice that Victor is there ogling as moves to the further edge of the rink with each step and turn and glide. He leans his weight onto the right edge and enters into a triple loop triple toe combo, before his legs move wide open into a spread eagle on the inside edge and _god_ , that _sexy_ curve of his back!

Victor yanks his notepad out from his pocket and flips open to a clean page. He fumbles with his pencil and quickly begins to sketch the pose while it’s still fresh in his mind. Long strokes to elongate his legs and curvy lines for the turns with his hips and his arms that move with a ‘come hither’ motion.

He flips to a new page every time he finishes one rough sketch to move onto another, bracing himself against the wall when he feels his knees trembling from standing for so long. In hindsight, he should have dressed way warmer than just throwing on this thin jacket. He feels his lips drying from the cool air and he sees the way how the lines are becoming more and more shaky from his trembling fingers.

But he just _can’t_ stop now! Not with inspiration in living flesh demanding Victor to capture each movement, each jump, each spin as he slinks and ebbs over the ice. Victor ignores the way his jaw chatters and the blistering feeling in his hands growing numb from the cold as he continues to flip to a clean page and draw, mentally demanding his body just allow him to _do this_ and not allow this inspiration to slip from him again.

Unfortunately, as the skater goes into a flying camel spin and Victor feels his hand cramping, Makkachin’s paw gently digs into his calf. Victor tears his eyes away from his notepad to look at his companion, who is whimpering and shivering just as much as his owner. Victor’s eyes grow remorseful; it’s one thing to force himself to withstand the cold, it’s another thing to put Makkachin through it.

He gets down on one knee and runs a hand through Makkachin’s fur, temporarily warming his hand for a moment as he rubs along his back and behind the ears. “Right, we should get home. We’re not dressed for this weather, huh?” Victor says, teeth chattering as he smiles. He rises back to his feet and tucks his notepad and pencil away, patting his stiff hand against his thigh and begins to walk away with his thoughts swirling and buzzing around his head.

When they return home, Victor turns on the heater for Makkachin to get comfortable and for his hands to thaw out. The second he feels his blood circulating and warmth beneath his fingertips, he digs out his larger sketchbook from underneath his sofa and a few sets of pencils.

The ideas are fresh in his mind and they flourish as he moves the nub of the pencil over the paper with more ease than he’s had in a while. He doesn’t bother to look at the clock, too entranced by filling the page with an image of a figure basking in the moonlight, moving like they are floating on air.

Victor will be lying if he says he isn’t curious about the other man. From his distance, Victor couldn’t see his features up close. He only knows the curves of the man’s body from the way his practice gear clung to his frame. He wonders what does his body look like underneath those clothes and if there is softness to the curves of his hips, or toned muscle as he stretches his legs out with kicks and spins. Does he usually skate there? Does he skate alone by himself or is he there with the usual crowd? Is he doing this as a hobby or is he training for a competition? Is this a one-time thing? Will he be there tomorrow? 

Victor’s eyes begin to grow too heavy for him to stay awake and add any finishing touches to the creation on his lap. He falls asleep as morning begins to dawn and the red hues of the sun filter through his window, and dreams of the man gliding on the ice in shades of watercolors.

 

* * *

 

Victor bursts through the smoothie shop and announces to all three people inside, “I found my inspiration!”.

He can see that Yuri is ignoring him - or at least trying to act like there isn’t a tall Russian man with horrible bedhair in the entry way - as he hands the customers their change. Victor marches up to the front counter and braces his hands against the green surface top, eyes bloodshot from oversleeping.

“I found,” Victor says slowly, “my inspiration.”

“What do you want me to do? Give you a fucking cookie?” Yuri asks sarcastically and Victor smiles.

“No, but you can give your big brother a ‘Strawberry Kiwi Twist’,” he says. Yuri furrows his eyebrows and juts out his lower lip in a pout.

“I hate making that drink.”

“But you’ll do it for your big brother that loves you so much, won’t you?” Victor fawns and Yuri rolls his eyes. Victor fishes out the needed money from his pants pocket and hands it to Yuri, who takes it and begrudgingly unfolds and straightens each bill before ringing up the order and placing it into the register.

Yuri turns and sets out to begin working on the drink at a fast pace to get Victor the hell out of here, while Victor rests his back against the counter and crosses his arms. “He’s a figure skater,” Victor begins, when it becomes obvious that his brother isn’t going to ask him just what gave his inspiration back, “I saw him last night at that outdoor rink in the park when I took Makkachin out for a walk. He’s really good. _Really good_.”

Yuri makes a grunt and Victor doesn’t know if he’s really listening to him, or if he’s getting irritated with the blender again. Since the teen punches the machine with his fist, Victor guesses it’s probably the blender. He continues anyways.

“I drew _so_ much last night. I still have ideas for what else I want to create just from the rough sketches of him, but I need to stop by the store to get some more supplies. He moved so _beautifully_ , Yuri. You should have seen him. His spread eagle – his spread _eagle_ -”

“Why don’t you have any adult friends to talk about this instead of bothering me at work? I already hate this place, I don’t need to hear you talking about some random guy while I make your _stupid_ drink order with this _stupid_ -” Yuri’s fist connects with the blender when he sees that the ice still hasn’t been blended properly. “God! No one uses these blenders anymore! I bet Java Hut doesn’t have to put up with this crap!”

“And how he was moving was just so _sexy_. He had headphones on so it’s not like I could hear the type of music that he was listening to, but it must have been something like a tango number. Something with a lot of passion as its driving force. He skated like he was trying to seduce an invisible lover watching him and hold their attention for the entire night. I probably would have stayed and sketched him the entire time he was out there too-”

A drink slams down in front of him. “Strawberry Kiwi Twist. Thank you for coming, have a nice day,” Yuri recites in a deadpan voice and face that screams for Victor to just ‘leave him alone’. Victor blinks, then takes the drink in his hand and a napkin to wipe up the trails along the sides.

“Tell Mom I said hi,” Victor says and Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuri grumbles. Victor spies a window of opportunity, and quickly leans in to give Yuri a small peck on the forehead underneath the standard lime green uniform hat.

Yuri screams bloody murder, swatting at Victor’s arm with his cheeks flushed red. “Get out of here! You’re so embarrassing!” he yells and Victor laughs, dashing out the door before Yuri can try to wrap his hands around his brother’s throat.

Victor arrives back at his studio about twenty minutes later after stopping at the crafts store and leisurely strolling through the park to check if the skater might be there amongst all the children. When he enters, Makkachin jumps around his legs in that eager little way to let Victor know he wants to go outside.

Victor shakes his head and drops his supplies in his workspace. “We’ll go out in a little bit,” he tells the poodle, and grabs a squeaky toy from a box on a shelf right above his easel. He gives the rubber ball a firm squeeze and it lets out this shrill wheezing noise, Makkachin’s ears immediately perking upwards.

Victor gives it a gentle toss and Makkachin makes a dive for it, scampering after it as it rolls under Victor’s small dining table used more for spreading junk mail out on it than eating food on, and into the kitchen.

Victor chuckles, taking a seat on his couch and grabbing his sketchbook to continue the work he started last night.

He adds a burst of color and outlines the figure on paper flying and twisting into the air. He uses reds and yellows and oranges to create a warm piece of a male figure posing sensually against an explosion of fiery colors. He draws more figures and tries to invoke that same feeling he had when he watched the skater into his pieces, but is finding it difficult with most of these figures not having a face. The shape and lines of the figures has the sexuality he witnessed from the skater, but Victor feels it’s rather incomplete without a face to match with.

He takes a sip of his smoothie – which less Strawberry Kiwi Twist and more ‘weird, watered down concoction that sort of tastes like strawberries and kiwis’ – and glances at the clock hanging on the far wall in the direction of his bedroom. It’s not around the same time he left last night, but he wonders if he can catch the skater before he arrives and ask about possibly posing for a few pieces.

He works on some pieces using left over pastels, finishes off the disgusting elixir his little brother made for him out of love, and warms up some leftover pasta from two nights ago to inhale down in a hurry.

He grabs a heavier coat, his scarf and gloves, and stuffs his needed supplies into his messenger bag to sling over his shoulder. “Okay, come on Makkachin,” Victor calls out, listening to the sound of the ball wheezing before Makkachin scampers to his side. He smiles fondly at his dog, grabs his keys and both head out the door.

Victor moreso runs than strolls to the park with Makkachin eagerly following behind him. They hurry down the path, Victor ushering apologies to the people he almost runs over that are casually walking through the park on this quiet night. Victor nearly falls as he rushes down the hill, and sure enough there he is. The same skater in the middle of an empty rink skating dreamily along to the music in his ears.

Victor this time, takes a seat on a bench directly in front of the rink and underneath a lamp pole, giving him a much needed source of light. Makkachin hops onto the bench next to him and takes up the rest of the space as he lies down. Victor doesn’t mind, placing his bag in between his legs and fishes out his sketchbook, pencils and erasers to balance them all on his lap.

He hasn’t been spotted yet by the skater and Victor isn’t as close as he would like to be, but he can make out a lot more of the skater’s features than before. Silently, Victor begins to draw. His eyes continue to flicker up and down, back and forth, observing the skater and his movements before he translates it onto paper and adds more detail and more of Victor’s own unique touch to it.

The skater enters into triple axel, triple toe combination and turns outwards, bending forward and raising his free leg upwards in a charlotte spiral as he glides along the far edge of the rink away from Victor. Victor hums, drawing the leg a little bit straighter than how the skater is currently holding it, before he goes back and observes him.

He’s finding that the longer he spends out here, the longer he spends himself just watching the skater. He certainly moves with grace and has a sensual air about him that makes you want to watch and draw you in, but there’s also something like naivety hidden in the way that he does his spin combinations and exits on the inner edge of his skates, retreating farther and farther away from wandering eyes.

He flips to another page and continued to draw as the ideas filled his head and his hand moves with confidence as he fills the page up and runs his pencil down till its dull. He discards the dull pencil and grabs another one to continue, shading in the night sky above and the bright moon that silhouettes the skater.

The skater moves forward towards the center of the rink from behind and his feet splay apart momentarily as he sets up a jump. He looks over his shoulder and Victor’s eyes immediately find themselves locked with big, chocolate brown ones.

Oh.

The skater takes off into a Salchow jump, overrotates, comes down with too much weight on the outside edge of his right foot, and crashes _hard_. He slides forward towards Victor, his headphones hitting the edge of the rink with a tiny thud. Victor is immediately on his feet, his supplies falling onto the ground as he runs to the wall.

“Are you okay?!” Victor calls out and the skater quickly scrambles to his feet, grabbing his headphones and meeting Victor’s gaze yet again with their faces only a few inches apart from each other.

_Oh_.

He’s really cute.

Although that bloody nose doesn’t look too good.

His face is round and soft and his eyes are wide with shock and confusion. His hair is just as black as the night and pushed back in a way that Victor finds _extremely_ attractive. He looks young, definitely not young like Yuri but not as old as Victor is. Maybe a few years younger than him. God _damn_ , he’s cute.

Both of them kind of just stare at each other, blood still spurting from the skater’s nose and no one moving an inch from where they stand. Five minutes into their awkward stare down, Victor raises his hand and waves, thinking that if he can make this encounter any less weird and uncomfortable, he should start by introducing himself.

“I’m Victor Nikiforov,” he introduces and smiles, though he’s cringing on the inside at how he sounds like some tacky salesperson ready to make an offer that you can’t find in any store. He reaches his hand out towards the skater, who flinches away. Okay, bad reaction. Victor’s heart picks up speed for some reason. “I’ve been watching you skate and I saw you last night skating and I was wondering-” Victor word vomits and the skater’s eyes grow as big as saucer plates.

He makes a sharp turn and fucking _bolts_ towards the exit, one hand to hold his bloody nose while the other grips to his headphones.

Victor jolts in surprise. “W-Wait! Wait!” he yells and begins to run towards the exit, watching as the skater hurriedly shucks his skates off and throws them in his duffle bag. The exit is so _far_ , farther than from where Victor is sitting. Makkachin jumps off from the bench and runs ahead of Victor, Victor reaching a hand out towards his dog.

“Makkachin, wait! You’re going to scare him away!” Victor shouts. The skater throws the bag over his shoulder and quickly unlocks a bike parked against the rental shack. He throws one look over his shoulder at Victor and Makkachin running towards him, then throws one leg over and pedals like mad.

The skater disappears into the night on the bike, Victor just barely catching him. He groans and hunches over, resting his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. 

Well, that went horribly wrong.

 

* * *

 

Victor arrives at the outdoor rink far earlier than the previous two nights with hot chocolate and donuts as a mild peace offering to the skater because Victor admits that he _really_ fucked up last night, and nothing says ‘I’m sorry I scared you, I was just inspired by your beauty’ than liquid chocolate and tasty fried dough.

He sits and waits on the same bench he was on last night, watching an empty rink with no one skating on it. He drinks his own hot chocolate very slowly to try and preserve its warmth and eats one donut when he hears his stomach growl underneath the layers of thermals and sweaters.

He waits and waits and waits. People pass by him on their evening jog or their evening walk with their dogs. Makkachin watches each one that passes by with forlorn eyes, like he would rather be doing something else than sitting here waiting for a stranger like his stupid owner is.

They continue to wait. Victor does some doodles of Makkachin to keep him from checking the time on his phone, but the only poses Makkachin does is lying on his belly and giving Victor a look that screams ‘if we were going to sit out here _this_ long, you should have brought my squeaky toy’. When he fills two pages up, he switches to drawing the remaining donuts meant for the skater to somewhat satiate his hunger.

After three hours, the hot chocolate becomes cold sludge and the tasty fried dough becomes overly chewy and not tasty at all. Trying to savor his drink doesn’t prevent his body from trembling and shuddering from the cold air.

Another hour later, the lights illuminating the skating rink shuts off, and Victor and Makkachin are sitting in darkness.

“Ah. . .maybe he’ll be here tomorrow,” Victor says with a weak laugh. 

So, Victor tosses the donuts that are stale and cup of cold misery into the trash. He runs his hands through Makkachin’s fur to cheer his dog up, or maybe to cheer himself up with Makkachin’s happy smile as he scratches behind the ears. “It’ll be a warmer night tomorrow. He’ll _definitely_ drop by here tomorrow!” he tells Makkachin with a grin.

 

* * *

 

Except, the figure skater _doesn’t_ show up tomorrow night.

Or the night after.

Or the night after that.

Victor tells Makkachin that he’s _sure_ the figure skater will come by tomorrow night and they just have to be a bit patient and hey, he’s getting practice drawing landscapes and the night sky so it’s not a _total_ waste, right?

Makkachin always licks Victor’s cheek when he tells him this with a strained smile, possibly out of pity for Victor’s delusions.

One week passes by since the incident. All Victor has to show for waiting outside in freezing temperatures for his muse is a stuffy nose, a sore throat, gripping headaches and a dawning horror that he might have screwed up _way_ worse than he thought.

 

* * *

 

“It’s because you were being creepy and watching him. Anybody would have run away in that situation,” Yuri states simply to Victor who is slumped over the table at McDonald’s.

“I wasn’t being creepy. I was watching him and drawing him like a normal, law abiding citizen,” Victor says defensively, adjusting his face mask. He groans and rubs his eyes; fluorescent lights are not being kind to him right now.

“You say ‘law-abiding citizen’, I say ‘creepy stalker’. Like, you’re a twenty-seven-year-old man and _this_ is how you approach someone?” Yuri asks with a sly smile and Victor sits up, snatching up the cream pie off Yuri’s tray.

“That’s it, I’m revoking your dessert,” Victor says and Yuri gapes. He lunges for it and Victor holds it out of reach, shaking the cream pie tauntingly above Yuri’s head. “You have a job, right? This ‘creepy stalker’ doesn’t _need_ to buy his darling baby brother anything, but he does so anyways out of the kindness of his heart,” Victor says as he holds his chest with his other hand and gives a pathetic sniffle.

Yuri figures that this isn’t worth his energy or his sanity, so he sits back down and crosses his arms.

“Psh, whatever. It’s not my fault you were dumb. Why couldn’t you talk to him _before_ you started drawing him anyways?”

“He looked so into it, I didn’t want to disturb him. Plus, the moves he was performing were so well done, I needed to sketch them out while the ideas were still fresh in my head. You _know_ how I work,” Victor says and Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. Once ‘inspiration’ strikes you, you obsess over it for weeks until you finally get bored of creating the same thing over and over in different styles. I feel sorry for that figure skater. You already gave him a bloody nose and now you’re probably going to stalk him until you’ve had your ‘art fix’.”

Victor feels like he should be defending himself, but Yuri is probably right _and_ can back it up with stories from their past that Victor forgot about.

Victor shrugs it off. “Anyways, if he’s there tonight-”

“ _If_ ,” Yuri interrupts with a snort and Victor narrows his eyes at him.

“ _When_ he’s there tonight, I’ll apologize for startling him and ask him if he’d like to officially pose for me since you say I’m being a creepy stalker by observing him in a natural setting.”

“You make it sound like he’s some sort of endangered animal,” Yuri says with a roll of his eyes. “What if he says no?”

Victor rubs his chin and furrows his eyebrows. He didn’t think that far ahead. Honestly, he’s just hoping to at least get a name out of the other man for starters.

“Hmm. . .I’ll cross that bridge when I reach it,” Victor says eventually and laughs it off with a handwave. No need to think so hard about it. Victor knows that everything will just fall into place if he doesn’t try and rush it. He just has to keep that thought in the back of his mind. 

Just have to be patient. . .

 

* * *

 

Day twelve, still no signs of the figure skater.

Victor has improved with drawing scenery and backgrounds by drawing the layout of the rink over and over again and the cityscape behind it, but he’s honestly starting to grow tired of having to sit out here with Makkachin for about three hours in hopes that the guy will show up. He’s being pathetic right now. And also a creepy stalker like Yuri accused him of. A pathetic, creepy stalker whose nose is beginning to run from being exposed to the cold air for so long.

Victor yawns and gets to his feet, putting away his supplies and his sketchbook that has fewer drawings in it. “Come on, Makkachin. Let’s grab a coffee really quick and head home,” Victor mumbles, too tired to really form a sentence of coherent words. Or walk. His legs feel sluggish and numb and his nose is getting all gross and snotty.

He’s not going to bother coming tomorrow night, unless he wants to make this minor cold even worse. They wait at a stoplight for it to turn green, the coffee shop just a few feet away. It’s open late for the college kids, but it shouldn’t be a problem if Victor just swings by really quick, grabs his drink and leaves.

The light changes and Makkachin walks a few inches ahead of Victor, crossing first and waiting for his owner to follow him to the left. Victor can faintly smell the warming aroma of coffee beans in the night sky and he hums in content and breathes out a sigh of relief as he approaches and rounds the corner.

That’s when Victor crashes directly into a patron leaving the coffee shop and a tall, steaming hot chai tea latte becomes well acquainted with the front of his coat.

Makkachin jumps back to avoid the spill. Victor is thankful that he is wearing a fuckton of layers underneath, because a hot cloud of steam erupts in front of his face. He can only guess that the temperature of that drink must have been around the same as boiling hot lava from the volcanoes of Hawaii.

He doesn’t feel the burn as much, but he certainly feels a warm spot on his stomach. The only person that’s screaming is the one he ran into, a smaller male who dropped his duffle bag onto the ground to quickly grab the napkins out of his brown paper bag still firmly clutched in his right hand.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” he rattles, voice an absolute nervous wreck. He immediately begins patting Victor down and trying to absorb as much chai tea latte as possible while spewing out apologies, even though Victor was the one that mowed _him_ over. Victor just stands there, too confused and exhausted to make much sense of the situation.

He glances down just as the man looks up at him to offer to pay for Victor’s dry cleaning and both freeze in place.

Victor recognizes those big eyes. Even if they’re now behind a pair of glasses.

Of course, another stare down ensues. But this time, Victor is ready and has a better way of making a first impression. And by better way, he opens his arms wide and _yanks_ him into his body in a crushing hold, trapping him in place so the male can’t run away even if he tried.

The man gasps, face flushed as Victor draws his face closer and his hot breath ghosts over the male’s soft, plush lips. His eyes are wide in shock, unable to tear his gaze away from Victor’s eyes. He’s trembling in Victor’s hold, his stomach pressed up firmly against the coffee spill on Victor’s coat. _He’s definitely softer_ , Victor thinks in his head. Right after the much louder thoughts of _what the fuck am I **doing???**_

“Please,” Victor says, voice quiet and the man gulps. “Let me draw you.”

He stares.

Victor stares.

Makkachin’s head looks back and forth between them, happily confused.

And of course, Victor’s nose chooses this time to grow all red and snotty.

 

* * *

 

After a couple of tissues are handed out, a chai tea latte is repurchased along with a tall hot coffee with two creams and four sugars, and a quick adjustment of clothes, Victor and the skater find themselves sitting outside behind the coffee shop in the shopping area overpopulated with heating lamps. Makkachin is splayed over Victor’s feet, while Victor keeps giving quick glances over at the skater squirming across from him at the small table.

He really wants to talk to this guy, but he seems so nervous to even be in breathing distance of Victor. A complete contrast to what Victor witnessed out on the ice. Is this even the same person? No, Victor knows those eyes. He’s been thinking about those eyes ever since they last met, and has tried time and time again to recreate a palette that encompasses all the colors needed to create that beautifully alluring shade. So why is he being so nervous right now and determined to keep his head down and shoulders hunched up to his reddened ears?

Victor takes a sip of his coffee and sighs.

“I want to apologize for startling you at the ice rink,” Victor says, desperate to get _some_ conversation going. “And also for running you over and making you spill your drink-”

“But I crashed into you!” the skater says, looking forlornly at the stain on Victor’s coat. “Please, at least let me offer to pay for it to get cleaned. It’s such a nice coat and I just-”

“No, no. It’s fine!” Victor says with a laugh, waving his hand. “I barely wear this thing out anyways. It’s not like it’s my _favorite_ coat.”

The skater averts his eyes. “But still-”

“More importantly,” Victor interrupts and leans towards the man, who instinctively leans back out of surprise. “I want to know if you would consider posing for my artwork. We can even discuss payment if you want it, and I won’t ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with either. Just,” Victor’s eyes sparkle as he grabs hold of the skater’s hand, like he just needs to _feel_ Victor’s energy and all the passionate emotions burning through his chest.

“When I saw you skating that first time, I was hit with such inspiration that I haven’t had in a long time. Just looking at you move like that set my heart on _fire_ , and I’ve been coming to the rink every night in hopes of seeing you so I can continue creating more and more art. Ah! I think I have some in my sketchbook I have with me, actually!”

Victor releases the skater’s hand and sets his coffee down, hurriedly digging through his bag to fish out his sketchbook. He flips through a couple of pages until he lands on a picture he particularly likes, handing the open book to the skater to take in his hands. The skater takes a moment, staring at the picture Victor drew of him performing his step sequence. His eyes move over the page, following Victor’s curvy lines that evoke a sense of sensual movement.

“. . .This is me,” he finally says, dumbfounded.

Victor nods his head, grinning. “Yes, it’s you.”

The skater flips the page and stares at the drawing of him, then flips the page again to stare at the drawing of him on that page. The more he turns the pages, the redder his round cheeks grow. He looks up at Victor, hands trembling as he holds the book.

“Y-You drew _all_ of these? Of _me?_ ”

“Yes, yes! I mean, I have a lot more at home and I’m currently working on a painting as well-”

“But _why?_ ”

Victor pauses, not sure where the man is getting at. “Isn’t it obvious? You were beautiful out there; I couldn’t help _but_ draw you. That’s why I want you to pose for me so I can draw you up close,” Victor says, voice firm. The man looks back down at the drawings and flips the page.

“. . .You’re serious.”

Victor frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He wouldn’t be sitting out in the cold for four hours for the past week and a half if he _wasn’t_ serious.

The man pushes his glasses that’s slipping down his nose back up. “I just. . . are you _sure_ you want someone like me to pose for you? I’m not. . .I’m not exactly model material or anything-”

“Yes. I want you,” Victor answers quickly, but then rubs the back of his neck. “But I want you to agree to it on your own terms. I don’t want you to feel like I’m twisting your arm into doing this-”

“N-No, I would like to! But I just don’t think it’ll be anything worthwhile-”

“ _You will?!_ ”

Victor nearly knocks the entire table over as he leaps up from his chair, grabbing hold of the skater’s hands and yanking him forward. Victor grins from ear to ear, kissing the skater’s bare knuckles that are cold and trembling. “Thank you. _Thank you_ ,” Victor breathes over his skin, hot and heavy and _ohsograteful_.

The skater yanks his hands away and immediately places them back into his lap, turning his face downwards. Ah, well, Victor’s sure they’ll become more intimate through this process and he won’t be so jumpy around him for long.

Victor sits back down in his chair and gets his cell phone out from the pocket of his jacket. “Let’s see, we can probably start next week if you’d like. And we can also work out payment and how much you’d want – I need to start working on a theme for this. Plus, I need to call my friend and see if he’s planning an exhibition I can participate in – hey, can I have your phone number?” Victor fires off all in one breath.

The skater opens his mouth to offer _some_ sort of response, but a low growl silences him and he holds his stomach.

“Ah,” Victor pauses, “have you had dinner yet?”

“No,” the skater admits.

“Do you want me to buy you something? I’ve kept you out her longer than you were planning-”

“No, no, no!” the skater quickly says, waving his hands. “You already bought my drink, you don’t have to buy me dinner too,” he says and gives a timid smile. “Um, if I give you my phone number, do you think we can talk about this tomorrow?” he asks and glances down at the coffee stain on his shirt from Victor forcing him up against him, “Preferably when we’re both not covered in coffee and freezing?”

Victor chuckles. “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan!”

He hands the skater his cell phone and the skater does the same with his. Victor inputs his contact information and also a couple of fun emojis after his name, before he hands the phone back and accepts his phone from the skater. He looks over the contact information, eyes crinkling as he reads the name of his current muse.

“Yuuri Katsuki?” Victor asks. He nods, adjusting his glasses as he does so. Yuuri Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki. Victor sounds out the name a couple of times, enjoying the way it sounds on his tongue. He chuckles, going back to his contacts.

“I have a little brother named _Yuri_ ,” Victor says, tapping Yuri’s contact and showing Yuuri his photo.

Victor remembers the day he took it. It was an early Sunday morning and when he went to get Yuri for breakfast, his brother just looked so peaceful and vulnerable that he just _had_ to take the picture. Unfortunately, Makkachin accompanied Victor at the time and assumed that when Victor took out his phone and aimed it in Yuri’s direction, that Yuri should be awake and properly ready to take the photo.

So Makkachin, being the kindhearted canine he is, pounced on Yuri to wake him up with a jolt. Yuri screamed like someone was stabbing him with a knife, and Victor quickly snapped the photo.

It’s by far the ugliest picture Victor has of Yuri, but his brother’s facial expression is just too funny for Victor to delete it. Plus, it’s not like Yuri will see the contact photo he saved for him, so Victor doesn't feel a particular _need_ to delete it.

Yuuri stares at the photo, trying to come up with words to describe it. “He’s. . .cute,” he eventually says with a smile and Victor smiles back. Yeah, he’s going to like this guy. He’s sweet and cute _and_ makes Victor want to draw and paint until his hands fall off his wrists.

Victor pockets his phone and both rise to their feet, Makkachin moving to stretch his legs.

“Do you happen to live close by?” Victor asks and Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek.

“Um, not that far. Do you?”

“I live a couple blocks away.”

“Ah.”

More silence. Yuuri twiddles his thumbs, biting on his lower lip. “Um, well thank you for buying my drink. And I’m _really_ sorry about your coat-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine~” Victor reassures for the twentieth time.

“And I hope things will turn out okay with me posing for you,” Yuuri says, gently scuffing the tip of his right shoe into the brick pavement. “I-I’ll try my best!”

Victor smiles. “Yeah, same here. And like I said, I won’t ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. We can hash out what you’re fine with and what you’re not tomorrow too, if you want.”

Yuuri rubs the back of his neck. “Well, as long as you’re not planning to do something creepy like. . .murder me and use my blood as paint or something, haha. . .” Yuuri says with an awkward laugh and Victor rubs his chin.

“Of course not. Blood will look terrible on a canvas.”

Yuri has told him once that there is a time and place for dark humor. This clearly isn’t that time.

Yuuri stares at Victor with his smile frozen on his face, while Victor wonders if he should quickly apologize and offer to buy Yuuri dinner to convince him he’s not some serial killer.

But eventually, it seems Yuuri gets the joke and laughs a genuine laugh. The tension that zapped through Victor’s spine in that moment has now melted away, a warm feeling in his stomach appearing as he laughs along with Yuuri. Yeah, he’s cute. _Definitely_ cute.

They depart a few minutes later after Yuuri promises to call after he gets off from work to see about when can he start. He also stops to pet Makkachin before he leaves, because he reminds Yuuri of his puppy he had when he was younger. Victor watches him depart in the opposite direction he needs to leave for his own studio, and then continues on home himself with an extra bounce in his step and that bubbly warm feeling still lingering in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

“He agreed?”

“Yes.”

“He _voluntarily_ agreed?” Yuri asks again, like there is absolutely no _way_.

“ _Yes_ , he agreed.”

The boy leans back into the couch cushion and narrows his eyes. “What did you _do_ to him? Did he knock his brains out when he face-planted on the ice or something?” Yuri questions.

“He says he wants to do it. I’m offering to pay him too so he might be looking for some extra money,” Victor says. He checks his phone for possibly the fortieth time to see if Yuuri has texted him back, but so far has had no message come through. Victor promised himself that he’s not going to act too eager about this. Yuuri is very delicate and shy; he doesn’t want to scare him away again when he finally has him all to himself.

Yuri gets up from the couch and strolls over to look at Victor’s current painting of Yuuri. It’s very simple, an extreme close up of Yuuri’s face from Victor’s memories last night, with only his facial features visible and the eyes being the most prominent.

“And this is him?” Yuri asks. Victor nods his head and Yuri stares at the painting a little bit longer. “The guy that you said shares my name? Your ‘ _inspiration_ ’?”

“Yep.”

Yuri hums and judges Yuuri’s face as painted by Victor for a couple more minutes, then shrugs. 

“Meh, he doesn’t look like anything special.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri Katsuki is twenty-three years old. That’s one of the first things Victor finds out about him when Yuuri finally texts him back and offers to meet up at the park again. Victor also finds out over some hot chocolate and pastries Yuuri bought from the coffee shop, that Yuuri is a recent college graduate with a major in _organic chemistry_. Which, okay, is 100000x times a lot more impressive than Victor’s art major, and he doesn’t believe that Yuuri can possibly get _more_ attractive. Brains and beauty, what a package.

He’s currently living with a roommate and he works at a bookstore, occasionally helping out at his family’s inn whenever they need the extra hands. Yuuri recommends Victor tries their hot springs if he’s ever down in the countryside.

He’s been skating ever since he was little and has also won quite a few junior championships, but never went professional due to concerns about how his parents could pay for the costs. He skates at the outdoor rink and also at Ice Castle, which is conveniently located near his apartment building, but doesn’t offer the same ambience that the outdoor rink gives.

They hash out working agreements and times that they can meet up so Victor can draw Yuuri as he skates. They also make agreements for Yuuri to come to Victor’s apartment to pose for still art as he tries to tie together a theme of some sorts.

After their meeting, they head down to the outdoor ice rink where there’s more people on the ice than normal. Yuuri didn’t bring his skates and Victor didn’t plan on drawing anything, so they both sit on the bench and watch everyone go around and around the ice rink.

Makkachin, Victor’s ever faithful companion, has his head rested on Yuuri’s knee and Yuuri’s hand is gently stroking the curly fur atop his head. It doesn’t surprise Victor how Makkachin has taken to Yuuri; Makkachin has always been a very friendly dog and Yuuri has a very friendly aura about him. One that draws Victor to him in curiosity and wonder how does Yuuri’s personality shift so much when he performs on the ice.

“Yuuri, are you seeing someone?” Victor asks. Yuuri looks up from petting Makkachin.

“Huh?”

“Are you dating anybody right now?”

“H- _Huh?_ No, I’m not,” Yuuri says and Victor scoots in closer on the bench.

“Do you have an ex?”

“No.”

“A secret lover?”

“Wha - no!” Yuuri stammers. “I’m 100% single. No secret lovers or ex’s. At all,” Yuuri finishes lamely and Victor hums.

“When I saw you skating that one time, it looked like you were trying to seduce someone watching you. You weren’t thinking about anyone in particular when you were moving like that?” Victor asks and Yuuri hunches his shoulders, glancing over towards the ice.

“No. . .”

“. . .Ah, so you’re just naturally sexy then,” Victor says, nodding his head.

“No, no, no. Me and ‘sexy’ are. . .” Yuuri waves his hands into this shape and gives an awkward chuckle like it’s supposed to signify something. Victor doesn’t get it.

Yuuri turns to continue petting Makkachin and scratching behind his ears. “Anyways, I didn’t think anyone was watching me. I would have been moving a lot differently had I known you were there,” Yuuri admits and Victor hums.

“What would you have done differently?” Victor asks, leaning closer. He turns Yuuri’s attention back to him, gently holding Yuuri by his chin. “Would you have focused on making yourself look good and not make any mistakes?” Victor asks. His thumb rubs against Yuuri’s lower lip. “Or would you have fully let go and expressed yourself, regardless if a stranger was watching you?”

He feels Yuuri’s lower lip tremble under his touch, his warm breath ghosting over the tip of his thumb. He’s stunned, eyes unable to tear away from Victor’s. Victor moves his hand so now it cups Yuuri’s face and feels Yuuri’s skin grow warm against his palm. “I think I want to see you skate for me. I bet I can fill an entire gallery from a program you made for my eyes only,” Victor murmurs.

**RING RING BEEP BEEP**

Like a snap of the fingers to awake a person out of hypnosis, the chipper ringtone snaps Yuuri out of Victor’s trance. He throws his body backwards, flailing his arms so he doesn’t fall off the bench entirely. His face is scarlet red and he fumbles for his phone in his coat, answering it and holding it to his ear.

“Y-Yeah?! Hello?. . .oh yeah, i-it’s nothing. . .um, I’ll be back soon. . .oh, yeah, sure,” Yuuri says, running a hand through his hair and breathing hard. “Right, I’ll see you later,” Yuuri says, hanging up the call. He turns to Victor, face still flushed over the bridge of his noe and his cheeks. “Um, roommate called. Asked me if I’ll be back for dinner,” Yuuri explains.

“Oh. . .do you find your roommate attractive?” Victor questions.

Yuuri sighs. “ _No_. He’s just a friend,” Yuuri states and Victor laughs.

“Sorry, sorry. You know, you can ask me about my relationships if you want. You know, build up trust and a connection with each other and all?” Victor suggests.

“Um, no. I don’t think I need to know all that,” Yuuri says and Victor cocks his head to the side, confused.

“You’re sure? I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

 

* * *

 

Their first week as artist and model goes by extremely quick, trying to adjust to each other’s schedules and work habits. Usually, Victor meets Yuuri outside of his work and both grab a quick bite to eat at the sandwich shop before they go to Yuuri’s apartment so he can change. Victor becomes acquainted with Yuuri’s roommate Phichit, who asks to follow him on Instagram since Yuuri is #socialmediachallenged and has yet to get one, and once Yuuri has all his gear, they head over to Ice Castle.

There’s a little bit of awkwardness at first; Yuuri doesn’t get into the same zone with Victor watching him at first and it shows through his skating with stiff spirals and choppy spins. But Victor is patient, and explains to Yuuri the types of emotions and scenarios he wants to draw that Yuuri is free to express however he likes.

Yuuri loosens up which each day, skating to music playing over his small speakers so Victor can get a better sense of the rhythm in Yuuri’s step sequences. He’s amazed at how versatile Yuuri is in style and rhythm; Yuuri easily transitions from that of a showman performing for the masses, to someone that skates and loses themselves in the music and ignores everything else around him. Sometimes Yuuri forgets that Victor is even there, which works completely fine for Victor since he wants him to move naturally, and sometimes Yuuri gets self-conscious if his choreography is enough to make Victor’s piece a good one.

Victor really likes drawing Yuuri. He likes watching the slow and lazy movements of Yuuri’s arms and the sudden surprising bursts of energy when he goes into a flying sit spin or a quadruple toe jump. Victor likes it when Yuuri challenges himself to give Victor as many dynamic poses to draw from as possible. He has a dozen drawings of Yuuri performing a double axel jump from different angles and has at least one drawing of Yuuri performing every spin. 

Yuuri is just so damn _amazing_ to watch. And every evening when they depart and Victor goes home to translate his drawings into larger pieces with more color, he still feels the electric excitement in the base of his spine from watching Yuuri skate, and it lasts until Victor falls asleep to start the process all over again.

 

* * *

  

“So have you two fucked yet?”

“Yuri, he is my _model_. Who I’m _paying_ ,” Victor states very clearly, popping one pretzel bite into his mouth as they stroll through the mall in search of something Yuri can blow his paycheck on.

The teen shrugs. “That just makes it more likely for you to fuck him _because_ you’re paying him. I’ve seen your Instagram pictures with him and it’s not like he’s _totally_ hideous. So what’s taking you so long? It’s been a month.”

Victor pauses by a coin fountain, turning to give his younger brother a raised eyebrow. The kind that usually comes with a lecture attached.

“First off, this isn’t some depraved, sex story that Mom pretends she doesn’t read. This is real life, and what you’re saying will be considered sexual harassment by an employer. Second, if you were stalking my Instagram feed, you could have at least liked one of my photos. I always like the photos of you and Mila hanging out-”

“She only tags me in bad photos!” Yuri accuses.

“And that’s why I always like them! You always look so cute when you least expect it-”

“ _Uuuuugggghhhhh_ ,” Yuri groans aloud, turning on the heel of his boot. He stomps away from Victor with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket and Victor chuckles. He tags behind the boy and gives him a gentle nudge with his shoulder.

“I think that Yuuri is _cute_. But not in a ‘dating’ way,” Victor explains.

“Like a ‘fuckable’ way?” Yuri blurts out, and gets a few looks thrown his way that he counters with a ‘fuck you, you don’t _have_ to listen to our business’ glare of his own. Victor briefly wonders how did his adorable baby brother get so crass and vulgar and _loud_.

“ _No_ , not that way either. Like a. . .” Victor rubs his chin and thinks for a few seconds, “he’s like a ‘I just want to stare at you for a while because you’re so _captivating_ to me’ cute.”

Yuri wrinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out. “Wow, that’s creepy. And gay. _Really_ gay.”

Victor pinches Yuri’s cheek in retaliation.

“Yuuri is just my muse. Nothing more than that,” Victor says, continuing on past the shops. Yes, Victor _knows_ that Yuuri is rather attractive, even if the skater himself doesn’t believe so. He _does_ like the warm flush of Yuuri’s face whenever Victor asks to treat him to some coffee after skating. He _may_ like the peaceful, serene expressions that form on Yuuri’s face as he skates and the way his body moves and twists with each movement across the ice.

He _might_ love how whenever they have to make a quick stop at the art store before they head to the rink, Yuuri always geeks out over the model airplanes and space crafts and goes into great detail explaining the make and model to Victor. It all really just flies over Victor’s head and once Yuuri calms down, he apologizes for spazzing out in the first place, but he’s just so damn _cute_ that Victor honestly can listen to Yuuri talk about airplanes and rockets for hours on end.

But just because Victor loves a bunch of Yuuri’s little quirks and think he’s beautiful and smart and Makkachin _also_ adores him (which is a major plus), doesn’t mean that Victor _should_ date him or anything. Because that would be unprofessional and. . .Victor is sure there’s another reason but right now, he just can’t think of it.

“Hey, Yuri,” Victor begins, turning to ask his brother something, but finding the boy is no longer by his side. He pauses and glances around, spotting Yuri a couple feet behind him standing directly in front of a window display.

Victor backtracks to where his brother is standing and takes a good look at what the teen is ogling. A vintage jean jacket, with silver spiked studs lining the shoulders and the cuffs, and a printed image of a tiger giving a mighty roar on the back.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Yuri breathes, voice trembling, “That’s so freaking _cool!_ ”

He runs into the store quicker than Victor can even give his two cents about the jacket. Victor blinks, then sighs and smiles. He slips his hands into the pockets of his blazer and strolls in after, putting those thoughts of Yuuri into the back of his mind for now.

 

* * *

 

“Um, I know that I said I’d be fine with anything-”

“Except for the ‘murdering you and using your blood as paint’.”

Yuuri blinks and nods his head, tangling his fingers in the bottom of his knit sweater. “Um, but can I not. . .take my clothes off either?”

Victor looks from behind his easel at Yuuri sitting on the stool.

“Well, I figured that I’d start with your face and we’d get to the full body later. . .I’m not expecting you to pose nude or anything-”

“Oh, I thought-”

“No, no, I-” Victor scratches the back of his head. “Well, I thought about ‘passion’ being a possible theme I can pursue, but I don’t need to draw you in the nude to achieve the same effect,” Victor says and rubs his chin. Although, he’d be lying if he says he _hasn’t_ thought about Yuuri’s naked figure.

For drawing purposes strictly.

Because the absolute _last_ thing Victor wants to do is make things weird between them again because he can’t separate his lust from his art.

. . .Not that that’s happened or anything.

Yuuri looks down at his feet, bare toes against the wooden floor, and pulls his lower lip in between his teeth.

“Is it because you feel like you’d look unattractive without a shirt on or something else?” Victor asks and Yuuri shakes his head.

“Well I. . .I gain weight really easy. I’ve been keeping it off by skating, but I have some ugly stretch marks from it and,” Yuuri scratches his neck and gives a little laugh, “Well I didn’t think that will look good for a painting so-”

“Show me.”

Yuuri blinks. “Huh?”

“Show me. Let me decide whether or not I want to draw you with all your imperfections,” Victor repeats, serious.

Yuuri’s eyes widen, swallowing down a large lump in his throat. He gets to his feet, wrapping his fingers around the bottom of his sweater. He slowly lifts the sweater up and Victor’s eyes are blessed with creamy skin and a soft looking stomach. But just as Victor’s eyes drink in the sight, Yuuri immediately pulls the sweater back down.

“A-Ah, just,” Yuuri pauses and takes off his glasses, setting them down on Victor’s overcrowded coffee table. He sucks in his breath, thinking about this _way_ too hard. Victor rubs his chin, trying to think of something that can put Yuuri a bit at ease, and the idea clicks.

“Here,” Victor says, rising to his feet. Yuuri watches him, eyes widening as Victor easily peels off his own shirt and tosses it off to the side. “Now you’re not going to be the only person shirtless, so you won’t feel so silly!” Victor says happily.

Yuuri doesn’t take off his sweater. In fact, he just stares at Victor. His eyes obviously roam all over Victor’s torso, up and down his arms and lingers on his chest, before it goes down his abs and outright _ogles_ Victor’s hipbones. Victor stands there for a few minutes, waiting for Yuuri to move or say something or _blink_ , and then claps his hands. “Yuuri!” Victor calls out and Yuuri jumps, face growing scarlet.

“H-Huh?”

“Does this make you feel a little bit more comfortable?” Victor asks, gesturing to his shirtless form.

“Uh. . .I don’t know. . .” Yuuri mumbles distractedly, tearing his eyes away from Victor’s body like it’s so painful to gaze at him. Victor rubs his chin, then places his hands on his belt buckle. He unfastens it and begins to unbutton his jeans until he hears Yuuri yell out for him to stop. Victor looks up and Yuuri has his hand over his eyes.

“What are you doing?!” Yuuri screeches and Victor smiles.

“Well, they say if you’re nervous you should try and imagine people in their underwear so you don’t look as silly. So I just figured-”

“No, no. I’ll take my sweater off. Just,” Yuuri’s hands slide over his mouth and he gives a deep inhale. Victor raises his hands away from his pants and he sees Yuuri’s shoulders visibly sag with relief. The figure skater swallow down another breath of air, then pulls his sweater up over his head and rests it on Victor’s couch.

Yuuri is definitely toned, yet somehow he still looks very soft and pliable. Victor also sees that Yuuri blushes with his body, since a small patch of red blooms out from his chest like a flower, spreading down over his navel and reaching out to his shoulders.

Awkwardly, Yuuri swings his arms back and forth, looking everywhere else but at Victor. He runs both of his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs back and Victor _sees it_.

“Don’t move,” Victor says suddenly and he steps towards Yuuri, ghosting his fingertips over the muscles in Yuuri’s arms. He feels Yuuri is trembling from his touch, but he is still holding his pose and his fingers are still tangled deep into his raven locks.

Victor steps around Yuuri so he’s behind him, and looks at the curve of Yuuri’s back and moves his fingers to the nape of Yuuri’s neck. Gently, he traces his finger down Yuuri’s spine, through his shoulder blades and down till Victor’s hands touch the brim of Yuuri’s underwear slightly peeking out from his pants. Victor feels. . .something. It’s like the urge he felt when he first saw Yuuri skating, but it feels more intense as he runs his hands back over the span of Yuuri’s back.

He definitely wants to paint Yuuri like this, but there’s also something else he wants to do. He wants to keep touching Yuuri’s body and watch color erupt underneath Yuuri’s skin from his fingers. He wants to feel every soft curve and hard ridge of muscle in Yuuri’s back and around his hips where he sees the faint stretch marks. He runs his tongue over his lower lip and lets his eyes wander back up.

He stares at the back of Yuuri’s neck, finding it strangely sexy. Maybe because it’s always covered with a turtleneck or a scarf or a tight thermal does Victor find seeing this exposed piece of skin more erotic than looking at Yuuri shirtless.

“Um, Victor?”

“Hmm?” Victor traces his hand down Yuuri’s spine once more without giving much thought.

“Are we. . .are you going to start or. . .” Yuuri’s voice sounds unsure and conflicted. . .like he doesn’t want Victor to _stop_ , but he doesn’t know how to ask for him to continue. Or maybe that’s just Victor’s brain imagining that type of tone in Yuuri’s soft and quiet voice. He pulls his hands away from Yuuri’s body and watches how Yuuri gives a sudden shiver.

“Yeah. Can you hold this pose for me?” Victor asks and guides Yuuri back onto the stool. “Kind of like you’re washing your hair, but your head is tilted backwards,” Victor further explains. Yuuri leans back more, his back curving and arching upwards.

“Like this?” he asks and Victor nods his head. He goes back to his easel, looking back at Yuuri.

“Let me know if you start to get tired so we can take a break,” Victor says and Yuuri hums in acknowledgement. Victor nods his head and allows his eyes to follow the curve of Yuuri’s back one more time, before he focuses his attention on the blank canvas in front of him.

Five hours later, Victor places his paint down on tarp underneath him and drops his brush into a small soup can filled with water.

“Okay,” Victor says and Yuuri hunches forward, giving an exhausted sigh. Victor smiles. “Modeling not as fun as skating?”

“I didn’t know it was this difficult to stay still for so long,” Yuuri groans, getting to his feet to stretch and straighten his back. Victor rubs his hands over his thighs, paint dirtying his jeans. He’s still shirtless, since his shirt seems to have disappeared from its spot on the floor. Makkachin must have gotten it when he wasn’t looking and added it to the pile of missing laundry that Victor has yet to discover. It doesn’t seem to bother Yuuri as much as it did before, although Victor does know that Yuuri kept looking over at him while Victor painted and his gaze lingered on Victor’s left bicep and forearm that balanced his palette.

“Do you want to see?” Victor asks as Yuuri pulls on his sweater and grabs his glasses. Yuuri nods his head, crossing over to view the portrait.

Yuuri’s torso takes up the entire canvas and it looks like he is dripping with watercolors. A hue of reds and yellows and greens outline his body, while violets and blues and every color in between form the shadows on Yuuri’s body and outlines the firmness in his arms and his ribcage. Yuuri’s expression in the painting is placid, eyes shut and the length of his eyelashes slightly exaggerated. The rosiness of his cheeks is prominent, and his red lips are slightly parted as if Yuuri is breathing out a heavy sigh and his body just melts from it.

Yuuri is brushing his fingertips over his own lips, possibly wondering if he actually looked like this.

“What do you think?” Victor asks after Yuuri has had a few minutes to view the artwork. Yuuri bites his index finger and shrugs.

“It’s amazing. . .it’s. . .I look. . .it’s. . .” Yuuri waves his right hand around in the space between him and Victor, like he’s trying to pick out an invisible word to fill in the gap.

“. . .Sexy?” Victor suggests and Yuuri grows red. He nods his head and Victor looks back at the painting. “. . .Well, you _are_ sexy. In a cute way. A cute-sexy hybrid. . .” Victor rubs his chin. Is there a word for that? Sute? Cexy? That sounds exactly the same as sexy though if the ‘c’ isn’t pronounced like a ‘k’ sound-

“So your theme,” Yuuri interrupts Victor’s random train of thought and the artist glances upwards.

“Yeah?”

“You said passion. . .but I feel something different from looking at this,” Yuuri explains, looking back at the painting. “It’s not as. . .intense I guess? It’s arousing to look at, but at the same time it feels like someone is experiencing something new. . .like they’re discovering their body for the first time.”

Victor looks back at the painting again, then looks at Yuuri.

“So when you look at this. . .you see something like a sexual awakening?”

“A-Ah, but I don’t really know! I mean, I’m not the art expert or anything here!” Yuuri stammers, but Victor waves his hands.

“No, no! I really like that!” Victor says and looks at the painting. “It’s still innocent, nothing crude or anything. But you can still feel something is happening there, like we’re intruding on something and secretly watching from a hidden spot,” Victor further clarifies and Yuuri nods his head. They both stare at the painting for a couple more minutes, Makkachin even padding over to take a look.

“. . .It’s funny. I feel like I should look away from it, but it’s _me_ ,” Yuuri murmurs and Victor rises to his feet.

“Well, soon a lot more people will be looking at it and forming their own opinions,” Victor says and Yuuri gulps. “I’m still talking with my friend about any exhibitions coming up. Once I find out the space I’m in and how many pieces I can display, we’ll work on putting together pieces that form a general theme. . .maybe I’ll use your idea to springboard off of, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no. No, go ahead.”

Victor pauses, then crosses his arms over his bare chest. “Yuuri,” he starts and Yuuri looks up into Victor’s eyes. “Is it alright if I put this in the exhibition?”

“. . .Of course it is. That’s why I posed for it in the first place,” Yuuri mumbles and Victor takes a step closer.

“You’re comfortable with strangers seeing this side of you?” Victor asks, voice low and deep in his throat. Yuuri tangles his fingers into his sweater again, gnawing on his lower lip.

“I. . .It’s not like they know me. It would be a waste if you create all this art and can’t display it cause you’re worried about how I feel,” he murmurs. “I’m not posing for them. . .I’m posing for you. . .”

How Yuuri breathes that last word out makes something sharp stab into Victor’s gut and heat rise deep in his ribcage, prickling at his skin. Funny, he doesn’t remember it being so hot in his apartment.

Yuuri runs his hand through his hair. “So um, I’m okay with it. With this. . .thing. . .” Yuuri says, gesturing to nothing.

“Yeah, this thing.”

“Yeah.”

They stare at each other in silence for a couple of minutes. Victor’s pretty used to it by now.

Yuuri inhales and claps his hands. “Well, I better get going!” he says with a laugh and leans down to rub Makkachin’s head. “Goodbye, Makkachin~” Yuuri fawns, nuzzling around Makkachin’s ears and around his neck, rubbing his hands up and down Makkachin’s back while Makkachin licks at Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri laughs and gets to his feet, wiping his face with the sleeve of his sweater before he turns to Victor. Victor holds out his arms expectantly.

“Do I get the same kind of goodbye?” Victor asks and Yuuri blinks.

“Maybe if you put back on your shirt?” he suggests and Victor places hands on his hips. “Or, you know, we can do a friendly handshake since this is just business and all,” Yuuri says, offering his hand forward like a stiff businessman that _didn’t_ pose sensually for four hours without a shirt. It takes a moment, but Victor takes Yuuri’s hand in his grasp. Shaking hands is fine. It’s professional. . .but Victor also wants to pull Yuuri into his arms and do. . .something more. He’s not quite sure what that something more _is_ , but he wants to do it.

They shake hands and Yuuri releases his grip, stepping over the mess of scattered books and bags of supplies as Yuuri makes his way to the door. Victor and Makkachin follow him, seeing Yuuri out as he slips on his shoes.

“So, tomorrow at the outdoor rink? The weather report says it’s not going to be as cold,” Yuuri suggests and Victor nods his head.

“I’ll buy the coffee this time.”

“You bought it _last_ time, it’s my turn,” Yuuri insists.

“I’ll buy us coffee,” Victor says, firm and sure. The argument is over before it can really get started. Yuuri sighs, but gives a nod of the head and opens the door.

“Goodbye,” Yuuri says and Victor waves.

“Good night,” Victor calls out, Makkachin barking farewell. He watches Yuuri walk down the hall to the elevators, giving an extra wave goodbye as he sees Yuuri step inside and the doors slide shut. Victor closes his own front door shut, locks it and sighs, before he walks back over to the painting to observe it once again.

A sexual awakening. . .maybe he can pursue a theme that is sexual in nature, but still holds a trace of innocence and naivety. His eyes move over Yuuri’s figure immortalized in the art, over the muscles and the curve of his body. Those delicious looking lips and those long eyelashes. . .

. . .Wow, Yuuri’s _gorgeous_.

Victor stares and stares at the painting of Yuuri, longer than he needs to just evaluate his work and moreso drinking in Yuuri’s body and lines. He only moves when he feels Makkachin’s paw nudge at his calf and he jumps, seeing Makkachin holding his food bowl and looking up with shiny eyes.

“A-Ah, dinner time already?” he asks with a laugh. His own stomach growls in response and he scratches the back of his neck. Time really _does_ fly when you watch paint dry, especially if the paint depicts someone attractive like Yuuri.

He bends down and takes Makkachin’s food bowl from the dog’s mouth, going into the kitchen to pop open a can and pour it in. He sets the bowl down and Makkachin already has his face shoved deep down into it. Victor runs his hand through Makkachin’s fur, giving his back a good scratch.

It’s fine if Victor appreciates Yuuri’s body in a professional and artistic manner. He’s not crossing any lines and he’s not acting out on anything. He’s absolutely fine with just admiring Yuuri’s body only on paper and on canvas. He’s fine with only looking with his eyes instead of with his hands. . .not feeling Yuuri’s warm skin beneath his fingertips is _totally fine_.

Victor repeats ‘this is fine’ over and over again as he stores the painting in a safe spot, warms himself up a meal to eat alone, polish up a painting of Yuuri skating, and falls into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Yuuri said that tonight would be a perfect night to go skating at the outdoor rink, everybody else had the same idea too.

Victor watches as people continually go around and around, filtering in and out of the rink once their sessions end and begin. There’s also a bunch of food stalls set up nearby and people sitting out on the benches and enjoying this bright and fun night. Yuuri is beside him, holding the last remnants of his shake Victor bought from him with one hand and his duffle bag with the other.

“I’m sorry, we should have got here sooner,” Yuuri apologizes, but Victor waves his hand and smiles.

“No, it’s okay. We skipped lunch so we at least needed to eat some dinner,” Victor says. It wasn’t really dinner since all they had was a tray of fries from McDonald’s and shakes, but it didn’t seem to matter to them. They wasted so much time just _talking_ , about figure skating and artwork and that stupid, slasher movie coming out in theatres next week (Phichit’s pressuring Yuuri to see it with him and Victor casually volunteers to tag along and hold Yuuri’s hand if he needs it), that they almost forgot that they were still technically on the job.

Yuuri glances at Victor’s bag on his shoulder, heavy with art supplies. “But you brought all your things and I was the one who suggested we do this at the outdoor rink,” Yuuri says and rubs his chin. “I don’t even know if Ice Castle is open this late. I usually ask my friend if we can stay there, but I don’t know if she’s there right now-”

“Yuuri, it’s alright,” Victor reassures and rubs his hands together to gain some warmth. “Hey, we don’t have to let this night go to waste or anything,” he says and looks over to Yuuri, eyes shining with delight. “Do you just want to, you know, skate around like everyone else?”

Yuuri blinks, then turns his eyes downwards.

“I. . .you sure?”

Victor beams. “Yeah! I mean, I don’t have the stamina like you do to perform all those jumps and spins, but I can skate in a circle for at least an hour,” Victor chuckles. He sees the corner of Yuuri’s mouth pull upwards into a small smile, shy yet teasing.

“Come on, don’t talk like you’re an old man,” Yuuri chides and adjusts his grip on the duffle bag. “But let me pay for this, okay?” Yuuri asks and Victor shrugs.

“Alright.”

Yuuri nods his head, cheeks warm and red. He tosses the empty cup into the trash and Victor gives Yuuri his shoe size for skates, before the skater disappears into the crowd near the ticket booth. Victor rocks back and forth on his heels, digging out his cell phone to scroll through his Instagram feed. He sees that Mila and Yuri are hanging out at the arcade and Mila has once again tagged Yuri in an unflattering photo that Victor likes without any hesitation. Christophe is enjoying a candlelit dinner with his significant other and Phichit has posted about another _ten_ pictures of him and his friend enjoying a concert.

Another photo pops up of Phichit on his feed, twirling around a glowstick between his fingers. Ah, make that eleven.

It takes Yuuri a while, but he eventually returns with a set of skates, two wristbands and a key. “Um, I got us a locker to put our things in. It’s big enough to hold my duffle bag and your supplies,” Yuuri explains, handing the skates to Victor as he begins to get his own skates on. Victor hums, unlacing his shoes.

“I’ll make sure to pay you back-”

“No, no! It’s my treat!” Yuuri interrupts and goes back to unlacing his shoes, blush spread across his face. “I, uh, it’s alright. Besides, the tickets were really cheap, so it’s not like I spent that much money anyways.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I pointed you out and they gave me a senior citizens discount,” Yuuri says with the _cheekiest_ smile.

Victor places a hand to his chest that suddenly feels too tight; a feeling that sinks low into his gut and ties it into knots. He knows this feeling now; it’s the feeling he had when he let his fingers move over Yuuri’s body. The intensity is stronger than ever and he feels himself grow warm from the inside out and heat his cheeks.

Victor must have taken too long to react, since the bright smile on Yuuri’s face is instantly wiped away and replaced with a look of sheer horror and awkwardness.

“I-I’m sorry! I was only joking! You’re not old or anything! You’re really young! Twenty-seven is still _really_ young! I just – I didn’t mean to – I –” Yuuri stammers and Victor closes his eyes, smile curving onto his lips. He dramatically places a hand to his silvery hair and gives a forlorn sigh.

“How mean~ You’ve hurt me so, Yuuri. I don’t think I can recover from such a harsh blow,” Victor purrs and falls backwards. Yuuri’s arms flail outward and he catches the older man, holding him in his arms. Victor hums, rather content. Yuuri’s very warm. . .

“V-Victor!” Yuuri cries out and Victor glances up at him, so close to those big brown eyes swimming with worry and wracked with nerves. “Honestly, it was just a joke. I didn’t-”

Ah, he hasn’t realized. Victor smiles and raises his hand, gently brushing the back of his fingers against Yuuri’s cheek.

“Well then, I guess you’ll have to hold my hand for the entire hour,” Victor says like it is _such_ an inconvenience, lilt in his voice and a twinkle in his eye. “You know, so the ‘old man’ doesn’t fall and break his hip or whatever.”

Yuuri blinks. “What?” he asks.

“Or maybe I can just get one of those balance tools and chase you around the rink with it,” Victor suggests with a big grin and Yuuri finally realizes Victor is just joking around. He closes his eyes and breathes out a small sigh of relief, before his lips curl into a smile and he gives a little chuckle. Victor begins to laugh too, reluctantly pulling himself from Yuuri’s hold when he feels he might be pushing this warm embrace for too long.

They return to lacing up their skates, stealing glances every couple of seconds and sharing quiet laughs about the joke that is still fresh in their minds. Once all laced up and showing their wristbands to enter, they take to the ice and move with the flow of the other skaters. Victor feels Yuuri’s hand slip over his own, hesitant at first, but with each turn around the rink growing tighter and more confident.

They go back to their conversation they had over their ‘dinner’, talks of poses Victor would like to draw Yuuri in as he skates peppered in between Yuuri fawning over the cute children learning how to skate and wobbling beside them. Yuuri talks the most during their time on the ice, Victor just listening and giving a nod when it’s appropriate. He finds that he likes Yuuri’s voice, how it fluctuates in volume when Yuuri talks about something passionate and he’s trying to keep quiet but just can’t help himself. Despite the noise on the rink, Yuuri’s voice is all that nestles in Victor’s ears. A warm ringing that echoes loud and that Victor hangs onto just like Yuuri holds his hand.

They laugh, they almost get ran over by a couple of punks skating far too fast around the rink and Yuuri _does_ get knocked over by an inexperienced skater desperately trying to keep their footing. They take Yuuri and Victor down with them, and after sputtering out their apologies to the two, Victor and Yuuri laugh again and only hold each other’s hands _tighter_.

Eventually, he hears over the PA system that all skaters with green bands have about five more minutes left in their session before they must leave to make room for the next session.

“What? That couldn’t have been an hour!” Yuuri exclaims and Victor squeezes his hand.

“Want me to buy another hour?”

Yuuri runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back.

“No. I probably should get back home anyways. It’s getting pretty late,” Yuuri mumbles. A couple passes by them, the woman giggling as she clings onto her partner to stay balanced. Victor glances down at his and Yuuri’s interlocked hands. He. . .kind of wants Yuuri to cling onto his arm like that. . .

But this is fine.

This is _absolutely fine_.

“We should get out now before everyone starts crowding the exit,” Victor suggests and Yuuri nods his head, allowing Victor to lead them towards the exit area. They take a seat by the nearby benches and begin unlacing their skates as a crowd of people shuffle behind them to get onto the rink. Victor steals a glance over at Yuuri’s hands, his knuckles rosy and fingers swiftly untying them.

“. . .Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“You always wear those fingerless gloves. You’re not cold or anything?” Victor asks,

Yuuri blinks. “Ah, no. I’m fine, really,” he reassures with a laugh and pulls off his right skate, covering the blade. “They don’t even feel cold since I was holding your hand the entire time,” Yuuri says with a smile. A few seconds later, Yuuri’s brain comprehends that he held Victor’s hand for an _entire hour_ and his face turns scarlet. He goes back to unlacing his skates, lips twisted in embarrassment. Victor sighs; goddamn he’s really cute.

They get their shoes on and Victor returns the skates while Yuuri retrieves their bags. A few people have disappeared around the rink, but the food stalls are still open and still drawing people in with the smell of delicious fried and grilled foods. Victor licks his lips, glancing over to Yuuri as he points over at a nearby food stall with his thumb.

“Want to grab something really quick to eat?” Victor asks and Yuuri rocks back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah. . .yeah, okay.”

Victor orders them each takoyaki and pays for the food. They stand underneath the light and Yuuri watches the people ice skating, while Victor watches how Yuuri rubs his hands together every couple of minutes and the rosiness in his cheeks. When they get their food, they take the longer path through the park where there aren’t any joggers coming through. They walk side by side, eating in silence as they moved towards the street corner where they’ll depart on their separate ways.

A little voice in the back of Victor’s head is screaming that he desperately wants to walk Yuuri home. He knows that Yuuri doesn’t live _that_ far away and it’s not like Yuuri takes a shortcut through some dark and murky alley where he can get jumped, but Victor just doesn’t want this night to _end_. Another voice, the voice of reason, rationalizes that it’s not like Yuuri is going to disappear forever once they reach the stoplight. He’ll see him on Monday when they get back to working on Victor’s art. . .back to model and artist instead of this. . .thing that they are now. This thing that involves holding each other’s hands, and laughing comfortably with each other, and the stabbing feeling in Victor’s gut that always appears when he sees Yuuri’s smile that he realizes he really _likes_. He likes this thing. He doesn’t want this thing to end.

“Um,” Yuuri’s voice pipes up, shaking Victor out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” he asks, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too startled and out of it. If it does, Yuuri doesn’t seem to pay any mind to it, or at least is nice enough not to comment on it. Yuuri is smiling that soft and gentle smile that makes Victor’s skin prickle with heat, his eyes on his half-eaten tray of takoyaki.

“I had fun tonight,” Yuuri says and Victor smiles, elated.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“. . .We should hang out again sometime,” Yuuri suggests, voice a little bit quieter. Victor blinks; his brain has momentarily short-circuited.

“. . .Yeah. . .cause you know, it’s good to take a break every once in a while. Keeps the creative juices flowing and stuff,” Victor says with a laugh because he doesn’t have a _fucking clue_ what he’s blabbering on about. It makes Yuuri laugh as well though, so Victor doesn’t care if he’s not making any sense whatsoever.

“So, would you want to hang out again next week? Something like this?” Yuuri asks. His eyes are brighter now, bolder and determined. It sends sparks up Victor’s spine.

“Yeah. Can I pick the place?” Victor asks and Yuuri takes another bite of takoyaki.

“Sure. Will I like it?”

“It’s going to be a surprise,” Victor says with a smirk, placing a finger to his lips. Yuuri cocks his head to the side in interest, then glances back in front of them as the streetlights came into view and they approach that damned stoplight far too quick for Victor’s liking. Yuuri presses the button for the light to change, turning back to Victor with the lights of the city illuminating him from behind. He looks like he’s glowing, like Yuuri is just this ethereal being that has decided to bless Victor with this moment in his life for only a few more seconds.

“I’ll let you know when I make it home safe,” Yuuri says and Victor nods his head. It’s on the back of his tongue now. _Let me walk you home. Can I walk you home? It’s late, do you just want to just head to my place and spend the night-_ **nononono**

The light switches green and both cross, Yuuri’s eyes cast downwards, deep in thought. The reach the other side of the street, the smell of coffee roast filling Victor’s nose. He exhales the same time that Yuuri does, both shuffling their feet.

“Well,” Yuuri begins, shrugging his shoulders and exhaling a puff of warm air. “I should get going.”

“Yeah, me too,” Victor says, paying attention to Yuuri’s tongue as it darts out and wets his lower lip from the cold air. They stand and stare at each other for a few seconds, cars racing past them and cold air tickling Victor’s nose. Yuuri smiles and shudders out a little laugh, before he reaches out and wraps his arms around Victor’s torso in a tight embrace.

Victor hears Yuuri say goodnight, his voice muffled as he speaks against Victor’s chest, and he is already pulling away before Victor can even hug him back or just hold him in his arms to really enjoy the moment. Yuuri’s face is as red as a stoplight himself and he squeezes the strap of his duffle bag on his shoulder tight. “I-I’ll see you later!” he blurts out, turning on his heel and running away.

Victor watches him go, empty tray lined with sauce in his hand, and sighs. He tosses the tray into the nearby trash alongside the coffee shop and sticks his hands into his pockets, heading towards his home.

This is fine. 

This is okay.

 

* * *

 

Victor dreams about kissing Yuuri’s soft lips and along his cold knuckles that night, to which he forces himself to awake before the dream Yuuri’s eyes send him past the horizon where he can no longer look at the skater the same way.

Victor flops onto his stomach and tries to dream about something else, but it always ends the same way. The dreams all start off in some form of color that shift and twists into a figure. The figure melts away to reveal Yuuri waiting for him, sometimes clothed in his skating gear while other times completely bare and dripping with watercolors.

Victor will kiss all over Yuuri’s chest and up his smooth neck before he suckles on Yuuri’s lips. And every time, Yuuri will just crave _more_ of Victor’s touch along his body. He forces himself awake, startles Makkachin as he tries to get into another position and attempt to go back to sleep again. In one dream, he’s kissing Yuuri on the ice, holding him nice and tight in a warm embrace. In another dream, he’s making out with Yuuri, hot and heavy on the floor of his apartment with paint spilling _everywhere_. With each dream, it gets harder for Victor to want to wake up from this. Yuuri is just so soft beneath his fingers and Victor can only imagine what kind of taste Yuuri is on his tongue. He bet he tastes like chocolate. Chocolate and coffee, cool mint and _warmth_.

He tosses and turns in his bed with each frustrating charge of want that wracks through his body. Makkachin eventually grows sick of getting woken time and time again by Victor’s restless form and retreats to the living room to sleep, which gives Victor more room to try and get comfortable. He feels a cold sweat breaking out over his skin and his hand desiring to move south when one particular dream had Yuuri breathe Victor’s name over his lips right before his tongue slips into Victor’s mouth. It’s all _too much_.

Victor tries to block out those dreams. He tries to satiate the lustful feeling in his gut as he thinks about Yuuri in bed now. He tries to repeat over and over that what their relationship is right now is _okay_. This is okay. This is fine. This is _appropriate_. This is _fine_.

But it’s not anymore.

Because now all Victor can think about is Yuuri’s smile, Yuuri’s warm embrace, Yuuri’s laugh, Yuuri’s voice. He wants _more_ dreams of Yuuri that have nothing to do with art and everything to do with his desires. He wants to touch Yuuri. He wants to kiss Yuuri. He _wants_ Yuuri.

The realization settles within his bones and cools his heated skin momentarily, his chest heaving up and down as the mantra changes in his head. This isn’t fine. This isn’t okay. This isn’t appropriate. _This isn’t enough_.

Victor Nikiforov wants Yuuri Katsuki.

Victor rubs his eyes and gives a long groan that ends with a quiet “Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might not be updated until jj and christophe make an appearance because i really want to use them but don't want to screw up their characterization ahahahaha


	2. just want your extra time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my god,” Yuri says, absolutely revolted, “why are you telling him to turn into a sugar daddy? He’s already giving him money!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the struggle of writing a fic where only half of the characters are established in canon* OTL
> 
> chapter title from Prince's "Kiss"

“Victor,” Yuri begins, lowering the eighteenth sketch of the figure skater Victor drew this week, “you have a fucking problem.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Victor says, not even taking his eyes off his current painting of Yuuri performing a quad lutz, kicking up a slurry of ice as he takes off into the air. Yuri tosses the sketchbook haphazardly onto the couch and Victor _does_ move at that. He points a paintbrush at the teenager, eyes stern. “Don’t throw that. I still need to let Christophe look through them and they can’t be damaged,” Victor scolds.

“You have like five thousand other pictures for him to choose from!” Yuri says, absolutely dumbfounded, and gestures to the entire studio.

In the hallway leading towards Victor’s bedroom are some covered paintings stacked against the wall that Victor hasn’t decided on whether he should sell or not. In his bedroom, his clothes have been pulled from the closet to make room for some more paintings and a couple of pastel works. There’s stacks of sketchbooks and papers on the side of Victor’s couch and some gesture drawings begin to encroach on Makkachin’s little corner. On Victor’s dining table, along with the normal clutter of junk mail, are reference books and color theory books mixed with charcoal drawings of Yuuri’s portrait.

Every single inch of this apartment is _covered_ with Yuuri Katsuki’s image, be it his face or his body. The little bit of rationality that Victor is desperately clinging onto flinches at the realization, but he keeps his expression moot.

“Don’t worry. I’ll clean up and get rid of pieces that are just meant for practice soon,” Victor says.

“I hope so. It feels like I’m going to find something creepy like a lock of his hair around here or something,” Yuri says and gives an exaggerated shudder. He strolls to the kitchen to help himself to a soda and Victor hears Yuri groan aloud. “God, you even have him on your fridge! He’s fucking everywhere!” Yuri exclaims.

“ _That_ is a purikura picture and it’s _completely_ fine to hang on the fridge,” Victor defends himself. He remembers that day clearly. Last Thursday at the mall, right before Yuuri had to go back home and Victor had to come up with an excuse to just spend a _little_ bit more time together. He knows that Yuuri was rather confused and the first two poses are a _little_ bit stiff and awkward. But Yuuri warmed up for the last three and signed his name alongside Victor’s, adding smiley emojis and little thumbs up.

Next to Makkachin, that is the most valuable thing in Victor’s apartment.

God, he’s pathetic.

Yuri reappears from the kitchen with a cold Coke in his hand, throwing himself on the couch beside Makkachin who casually crawls into his lap. Yuri makes a face at Makkachin, but allows the dog to use him as his pillow as he pops open his soda.

“How long is thing going to last? Isn’t there something _else_ that gives you inspiration? Something that won’t make me think my brother is turning into a stalker that will most likely kidnap the object of his affection and stuff their body in the freezer?” Yuri asks. Makkachin gives a bark at that, like he’s actually _agreeing_ with Yuri. Traitor.

“I’m _not_ going to stuff his body in the freezer,” Victor says aloud, cleaning his brush before he swirls some colors around on his palette to create a shade dark enough for the shadows on the ice. “And once I talk with Christophe about an exhibition and sell off some paintings to him, I’ll take a vacation. No painting, no drawing, no Yuuri.”

“. . .I call bullshit,” Yuri announces and takes a swig of his soda.

Victor sighs. Yeah, he doesn’t believe he can do it either.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri falls on the ice for the third time after another failed attempt at a layback ina bauer. Victor springs to his feet immediately as Yuuri gets to his knees and runs his hands through his hair. Yuuri shouts out an apology the same time Victor shouts to see if he’s alright, before both of them stammer that it’s alright and stare at each other for seconds longer as they try to figure out what to say next.

Yuuri sighs and skates over to the wall Victor stands behind. “I’m sorry, I just can’t keep straight to give you a good angle to draw from. I keep changing the edge on my right foot and lose my balance-”

“No, no, you still looked beautiful out there,” Victor cuts off, looking down at his sketchbook at Yuuri’s figure outlined in charcoal pencil. His arms are elongated backwards as his back bends and curves. The palms of his hands and his face are towards the sky, a look of pure bliss on Yuuri’s face as he glides on the outside edge of his skates.

Yuuri leans in to see too and Victor glances over at Yuuri’s soft hair. If he leans close enough, he probably can smell the type of shampoo Yuuri used to make it look so soft and shiny. In the back of his head, his voice of rationality that sounds like Yuri giving him a low growl grumbles ‘ _that’s creepy. Just stop, you perv’._

Yuuri looks back up at Victor and smiles. “You’re really good. Every time I see your artwork, I still can’t believe that that’s _me_ ,” Yuuri says, shaking his head as he pushes back a little from the wall. “Um, I’m going to do some twizzles. Unless you want get me in another position?”

“Ah, no. Twizzles are fine,” Victor says, mind taking a nosedive into the gutter for a few seconds as he thinks about putting Yuuri in _another_ position. Yuuri nods his head, skating back to the center of the rink and performing a forward left inside edge twizzle as he moves.

Victor plants himself back on the bench and shudders out a breath. He can do this. He can control himself. He can be professional. He’s fucking twenty-seven years old; he’s not some hormonal teen in high school. Victor looks back down at his drawing of Yuuri and Yuuri’s expression. His eyes are closed and his soft lips are curled into a small smile. It isn’t fair that Yuuri just doesn’t seem to understand how _beautiful_ he is and what kind of spell he has on Victor. If he did, then. . .

Actually, that might be a lot worse. A Yuuri that knew just how sexy he really is will be _so_ hard for Victor to handle. A Yuuri that knows how to throw a sexy glance or give a flirty wink or is a master of innuendos will be _too much_. Victor brings his fist up to his mouth and bites on his knuckles. He needs to just _stop_. Focus, focus. Control it. _Control it_.

“Victor?” he hears Yuuri call out and he looks up, alarmed. Yuuri is back at the wall, eyes concerned. “Are you alright?”

Victor throws on a quick smile. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Just thinking about how to make this drawing look even better, that’s all!” he says and laughs hearty and loud, his voice echoing against the walls of Ice Castle. Yuuri goes around to the opening and braces himself on the side to dust off the excess ‘snow’ built up on the blades, before he steps off the ice and grabs the ice guards to cover them.

“Maybe we should call it a night? We’ve been here for four hours,” Yuuri suggests. It honestly doesn’t feel like they’ve been here for hours to Victor. It feels like they've only got here, and he still wants to spend _more_ time with Yuuri. His fingers wrap around the edge of his sketchbook as he gives a small nod of his head.

“Yeah, it’s getting late,” he says as Yuuri sits down beside him and begins to unlace his skates. Victor watches Yuuri and his bare knuckles. His eyes move up over Yuuri’s leg that’s stretched out as he pulls off his right skate and flexes his toes. Yuuri moves to his left skate, undoing the laces.

“So. . .” Yuuri begins, possibly feeling awkward that Victor isn’t speaking like usual, “Phichit hounded me into getting an Instagram finally,” Yuuri says with a little laugh and Victor’s eyes twinkle.

“Really? So that means you’ll follow me, right?”

“What will I get from following you?” Yuuri asks and Victor runs a hand through his hair.

“Well, for starters, you’ll get to see adorable pictures of Makkachin every day,” Victor says, raising one finger. Yuuri slips off his left skate and hums.

“That’s definitely a plus,” Yuuri muses.

“Right? And I’m trying to get into photography too, so I have some aesthetically pleasing photos of the cityscape I take whenever me and Makkachin go out for walks,” Victor says and Yuuri smiles.

“Anything else?” Yuuri asks, stuffing his skates into his duffle bag.

“If I cook something that isn’t ugly, I take a picture of that as well to honor my success.”

Yuuri laughs and Victor _melts_. Yuuri digs his cell phone out from his duffle bag, turning it over gingerly in his hands.

“So. . .I was wondering if maybe. . .you mind being in my first official selfie?” Yuuri asks the floor, cheeks rosy from something more than the cold ice rink they’re sitting in. Victor’s eyes grow big with excitement and he nods his head.

“Of course!” Victor says and throws up a peace sign. “I’m very photogenic,” he reassures and Yuuri nods his head, turning and holding his phone out as he switches to the photo app. Victor leans in close, his chest against Yuuri’s back and slowly rests his chin in the crook of Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri shivers and Victor stills, looking at Yuuri’s face on the phone’s screen.

“Is this okay?” Victor asks and Yuuri nods his head, cheeks red hot.

“Y-Yeah, this is nice. Um. . .on three, okay?” Yuuri says and Victor winks, raising a peace sign. Yuuri matches him and rests his thumb over the circle in the middle of the screen. “Okay. . .one. . .two. . .three!”

“Cheeeeeese!” Victor chimes and Yuuri’s smile grows big and _perfect_. Both smile at the phone’s screen for a couple of seconds, waiting for the flash to go off. Victor feels his muscles in his cheeks beginning to strain and he doesn’t know if he should look at Yuuri or keep his eyes straight just in case it takes the shot.

A couple more seconds pass and Victor says through his smile. “Did you push it?”

“I thought I did,” Yuuri says back, not dropping his smile. He tilts his head to the side, pretty brown eyes behind his glasses trying not to look too confused as to why the photo didn’t take. Victor squints his eyes, noting that there’s a timestamp in the corner counting upwards. Ah.

“You’re recording, Yuuri,” Victor says and points a finger at the camera. Yuuri’s face drops in a flash and he gives a loud yelp, pulling his phone to his chest as he tries to stop the video. Victor laughs as Yuuri hurriedly taps the screen to stop recording, before he brings the phone to his face and groans.

“Oh my god, I’m so _stupid_. I’m sorry, I’m usually not the person taking the selfie between me and Phichit,” Yuuri apologizes, still using his phone to hide from Victor’s amused blue eyes. Victor shakes his head and he rests his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Want me to take it?” Victor offers and Yuuri peeks an eye at the artist. He gives a shy nod of his head, handing the phone to Victor and Victor switches over to the camera. He holds the phone out again. “Okay, get in close,” Victor says and Yuuri slides back against Victor’s chest so his face is in the shot. Victor rests his hand on Yuuri’s other shoulder, breath warm on the back of Yuuri’s neck.

“Like this?” Yuuri asks quietly and Victor hums. His lips are so close to the nape of Yuuri’s neck. . .he really wants to kiss it. He gives a squeeze of Yuuri’s shoulder to distract his mind.

“Yeah, like this,” Victor murmurs, voice barely a whisper. “Ready?” he asks and Yuuri hums. “One. . .two. . .three.”

“Cheeeese~” Yuuri chimes and Victor bursts into a big grin, burying his smile into Yuuri’s shoulder as the shutter sounds. Yuuri takes the phone from Victor and looks at the photo.

Victor’s face is half hidden since he’s laughing into Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri’s eyes are scrunched tight as he gives a big smile. Both of them look like someone off screen told them the funniest joke in the universe and they took the shot before they fell out on the ground laughing. It’s not a perfect, aesthetically pleasing selfie at all. . .but the longer Victor looks at it, the more Victor feels like it can be no other way. A bare snapshot that holds more character and happiness than the most posed of photographs.

“. . .I really like it,” Yuuri says after staring at it for a while. His voice is quiet, but Victor can hear the happiness in his voice.

“Yeah, me too. . .make sure to tag me in it,” Victor says and closes his eyes, memorizing how Yuuri’s body fits against him.

“Of course,” Yuuri says and pulls away just as Victor desires to pull him closer. He slips on his shoes and stands up, throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder. “Let me get the keys so I can lock up for Yuko. I’ll be right back,” Yuuri says with a smile, jutting his thumb behind him towards the lobby. Victor nods his head and watches the skater leave. When Yuuri is out of his line of sight, he places his head in his hand and _sighs_.

He rises up and grabs his art supply bag, moving to head to the lobby as the lights dim inside the rink. He waits out beside the rental desk, Yuuri emerging from the manager’s office with a set of keys dangling on his finger. Both walk outside side by side, and Victor waits as Yuuri locks up the front door and checks that it doesn’t budge.

“Okay, we’re all done!” Yuuri says and places the keys into his pocket.

“Your friend is pretty nice to let us have the ice rink to ourselves,” Victor points out as they make their way down the steps to the sidewalk. Yuuri laughs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, I’ve been friends with her since I was little, so I guess it’s a nice perk,” Yuuri says with a grin.

“Hmm. . .do you have a crush on her?”

“I always thought of her like another big sister. Plus, she’s married. With kids.”

“Ah, okay,” Victor says calmly while he does a mental fist pump.

They continue down the sidewalk, Victor’s gloved hands occasionally brushing up against Yuuri’s bare knuckles with each step. Yuuri begins to talk about how he visited the art store recently and bought a model plane he’s been working on these last couple of days, currently repainting it so it resembles more like its World War II counterpart. He laughs and adjusts his glasses.

“If I knew how to paint like you, I bet it would look _way_ cooler,” Yuuri muses and glances over at Victor. “Have you ever done something like that? Like nose art for a plane or a mural?”

“Hmm, no. I’ve never taken on something like that,” Victor says as they walk around the side of the department store and head towards their usual stoplight corner “I like the art that came from that era though. The Vargas Girls are beautiful,” Victor comments and Yuuri hums in agreement. Victor allows for _one_ little flirt to slip past his lips, corner of his mouth crinkling up in a smile. “I think I can paint you as a pin up.”

Yuuri laughs, which is a better reaction than Victor is expecting. “There’s no _way_ I can pose like a pin up girl. What would the painting even look like? Me naked on skates?”

“Yes,” Victor says, _way_ too eager and quick.

Yuuri blinks, eyes wide and bewildered, before he _smirks_. “Very funny, Victor,” Yuuri says and laughs. Victor laughs too, smile on his lips.

“Ha, yeah. I’m a riot,” Victor says. And also desperately horny. God, he needs a cold shower.

They continue down the sidewalk in silence, their hands brushing against each other with every other step and small smiles on their lips. Victor glances down at Yuuri’s right hand and at his bare fingers exposed by the gloves. He really wants to hold Yuuri’s hand. How can he ask to hold Yuuri’s hand for no other reason other than to just _touch_ Yuuri?

He turns his face upwards to the sky when he sees Yuuri glance up at him out of the corner of his eye. Yuuri looks away once more, and Victor goes back to scheming how to hold Yuuri’s hand without being weird. He can offer to just want to warm Yuuri’s hand up, since his fingers _do_ look cold and Victor’s gloves hold in a lot of heat. But what if he doesn’t want that and Victor just makes things weird and he scares Yuuri away. . .

The stoplight is only a couple more feet away. Yuuri is going to continue back to his home, while Victor is going to go back to another restless sleep that may or may not include a quick and frustrated handjob. Dammit, if he’s going to do something, he needs to do it _now_.

“So, I don’t think I’ll be able to go out tomorrow after work,” Yuuri brings up all of a sudden. “We have a couple new hires and I’m going to be training them, making sure they’re comfortable and everything,” Yuuri says and looks up at Victor. “But, um, maybe we can still meet up for lunch? If you’re not busy?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Victor says, nodding his head. “The sandwich shop?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Yuuri says, turning forward and _they’re already at the stoplight?!_ Why is time flying so _fast?!_ It isn’t fair; Victor just wants to indulge in his selfish desires and hold Yuuri against him, monopolize his time till time no longer exists and all Victor is experiences is Yuuri Katsuki with no pauses and interruptions.

Yuuri turns and gives a small little wave. “I’ll text you later then,” Yuuri says with a smile and Victor nods his head.

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Mm, goodnight.”

Yuuri turns and only takes one step away from Victor. But that is all it takes for Victor’s body to react before his brain does, his right hand shooting out like a bullet to grab Yuuri by his free hand and yanks him backwards. For a split second, Victor just indulges in how Yuuri’s hand fits in his own like it is meant to be there, and how Yuuri’s fingers instinctively curl around Victor’s hand, seeking the warmth.

Yuuri – understandably – gives a startled shout and turns back around to face Victor with wide eyes.

“V-Victor! What is it?” Yuuri stammers, looking down at their hands tightly interlocked and Victor not loosening his hold. Victor is staring at their hands, at how Yuuri’s fingers flush red at the tips and his hand begins to tremble. Victor’s eyes slowly move up Yuuri’s arm and rest on Yuuri’s confused expression. They stare at each other, Yuuri not pulling his hand away and Victor not letting go, for a few seconds until Victor runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“. . .I thought that I would have a good reason for wanting to hold your hand if I just did it, but I don’t,” Victor admits. Yuuri’s face grows a red Victor didn’t know was humanly possible.

Victor raises Yuuri’s hand and now holds it with both hands, turning Yuuri’s palm upwards. Victor takes his left pointer finger and gently drags it from Yuuri’s wrist across his palm to his fingertips. There’s a small buildup of callouses on Yuuri’s pointer and ring finger, Victor notes. His nails are short and appear to have been bitten down during a nervous moment. It’s charming for some reason; it gives Victor the needed reminder that Yuuri _is_ human too and not this ethereal being that breathes life into his paintings and stirs his fantasies.

But just as Victor thinks this, Yuuri’s hand is quickly yanked away and retreats into the pocket of Yuuri’s jacket. His eyes are towards the ground, face impossibly red and his shoulders hunched up to hide the burning tips of his ears.

“. . .I’m sorry,” Victor finally says after a beat of silence. The cold air brings him out of his thoughts and the loud noise of the vehicles rushing past them echo in his ears. Yuuri exhales, still not meeting Victor’s eyes.

“You just. . .startled me,” Yuuri breathes and Victor winces.

“I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what came over me,” Victor explains, though he _knows_. His body still craves to touch Yuuri and hold him, and the wants are starting to grow louder and louder in his head and rattle deep within his core. Yuuri nods his head, unsure.

“It’s. . .it’s alright,” Yuuri says and Victor furrows his eyebrows. No, it’s not. “Can you. . .just not do that again? I mean, if you want to. . .hold my hand. . .you can just ask instead of grabbing me like that-” Yuuri murmurs and Victor shakes his head.

“I’m sorry. It won't happen again,” Victor apologizes, embarrassment creeping in his chest. His arms grow stiff, his hands balling into fists. “I’ll just. . .goodnight. . .again.”

Yuuri nods his head. He takes one step back away from Victor, then two, then three.

And he runs.

When Victor gets inside his apartment and slams the door shut behind him, he slumps down onto his floor and places his face into his hands. What is he _thinking?_ What is _wrong_ with him? Why is it so difficult to control this feeling in his gut whenever he’s in Yuuri’s presence? The feeling that makes him want to act on everything and anything he’s thinking about. He wants to touch Yuuri. He wants to hold Yuuri in his arms and kiss every bit of exposed skin he can see.

He’s going to drive himself insane if this continues. He either needs to cut off ties with Yuuri and go back to his artistic slump, or find _some way_ to keep himself in check because Victor honestly doesn’t trust himself. He’s always trying to find some way to push the boundaries with Yuuri so he can get just a _little_ bit of satisfaction. But it just makes him want Yuuri _more_ and _more_ and Victor just _can’t_.

He hears a soft whimper and Victor peeks between his fingers, Makkachin padding over to crawl into his lap. Victor lowers his hand and sighs, smiling softly as he runs a hand through Makkachin’s fur.

“Hey buddy,” Victor whispers and rubs Makkichin’s head and scratches behind the ear. Makkachin flops over, exposing his belly to rub and Victor complies, feeling his mood brighten up just a little. Makkachin worms out of Victor’s grasp when Victor’s hand slows in his fur, and Victor gets to his feet. He sucks in a deep breath and exhales through his nose, running his hand through his hair.

Victor fixes Makkachin his dinner before he takes a couple of art books from his reference library to browse over a cup of instant coffee. His eyes roam over the Vargas Girls on paper, over illustrations done by Elvgren and Sundblom, and pop art scenes that are bright and loud compared to the softness of the pin up girls. He lets his imagination run wild about Yuuri and what he’s doing right now, what he’s thinking about right now, and feels an intense guilt when he thinks about how badly tonight went because he can’t keep his fucking hands to himself.

Victor has never felt like this. Victor has always been cool and calm and collected. The chase was never a problem for Victor beforehand; most of the time someone just flung themselves at Victor and he’ll go with the flow and let whatever happen, happen.

Yuuri is. . .different.

Yuuri is quiet. Yuuri doesn’t like to let his imperfections show in front of Victor and Victor _desperately_ wants to know each one. He wants to know Yuuri’s embarrassing stories. He wants to know Yuuri’s desires that he won’t dare utter aloud. He wants to know what Yuuri was like in high school, in college; even though Yuuri is all over his apartment and Victor can replicate his figure hundreds of times on paper, he wants _more_. It’s scaring him actually. . .this is starting to spiral far out of his control and it’s getting harder to say that all he wants from Yuuri is the inspiration to create art.

Victor leans back in his chair and sighs, before he gets up and begins to shed his clothes as he walks down the hallway to the bathroom to take a long shower.

When he exits and crawls into his bed, he buries his face into the pillows and breathes in deeply. He needs to control it. He needs to be satisfied because he _can’t_ scare Yuuri away. He’s a grown man; this is just lust and it can be stomped out if he just _calms down_.

Victor lies awake in bed for a couple of hours, trying to calm his still steadfast heart with slow breaths. When that doesn’t work, he pulls on a pair of underwear, sits at his easel, and paints.

 

* * *

 

_> I’m so sorry, but I need to cancel the sandwich date_

_> I got a drunk text from my old ballet teacher and friend and I’m really worried about her driving. _

_> So I’m going to pick her up and take her back to her place and bring her car back._

_> I’m really sorry! :(_

Victor looks at the phone screen and sighs.

 

_> >It’s alright. You two just get home safely_

That’s all he can really say right now. He’s still reeling about how uncomfortable things had gotten last night.

Victor glances around at his current gallery space in the museum, currently displaying pieces of cubic art for the exhibition still in progress for the season. Christophe is chatting with other artist collaborating in the exhibition, describing with them the theme and what kind of work he’s expecting them to do. The exhibition is to take place from mid-February to mid-May with an auction at the end if anyone wishes to sell their art to potential buyers or other galleries to be displayed.

Victor’s space is pretty huge; he’s already trying to form how he wants to frame each of the paintings that he wants to display for the exhibition as well as the necessary lighting and needed frames for each one.

Christophe has already collected some pieces of artwork when he visited Victor to talk about the theme of the exhibition (and to also give a cheeky comment about his rather stalker-like collection of Yuuri-centered art). Victor still has some paperwork to fill out for the exhibition and he still needs to find a team to set up his artwork. Christophe will probably recommend him some people to seek out if he asks, so he keeps that thought in the back of his mind.

. . .Yuuri wouldn’t lie to him about something coming up if he didn’t want to see him. . .would he?

There’s still so much that Victor doesn’t know about Yuuri and his personality that Victor isn’t 100% sure that Yuuri doesn’t use those methods to avoid someone.

He reaches into his pocket to check the time and pauses when he sees a text from Yuuri on the home screen of Yuri and Makkachin cuddled up together on the couch asleep.

 

_> Let’s meet up tomorrow at the ice rink! I’ll make sure to give you 200% so you’ll have a bunch to draw from! Promise!_

_>  _୧( ˵ ° ~ ° ˵ )୨

 

Victor nearly smashes his phone to his face and lets out one big  _guuuuhhhh_. Yuuri Katsuki is so cute, and Victor is  _so fucking gay for him_.

"Why do you look like a schoolgirl texting her boyfriend?" Christophe's voice sounds from behind and Victor turns as the art curator adjusts his cuffs. "Are you heading out right now? Or can you do lunch with me so we can talk contracts," Christophe asks and Victor nods his head 'yes', heart shaped smile on his lips and in absolute bliss. Any worries that Victor had are now wiped away. . .now all he needs to do is figure out how to keep his cool around Yuuri and not let something like last night happen again.

 

* * *

 

“You know what _always_ works?” Mila asks with a finger raised. “ _Presents_." 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Yuri says, absolutely revolted, “why are you telling him to turn into a sugar daddy? He’s _already_ giving him money!”

“I’m _paying_ him to pose for me. We’re not dating and I’m not trying to buy his love,” Victor says, like it really matters to clarify his intentions to the two teens behind the smoothie bar. Victor honestly _does_ need to get adult friends to talk about this with; Mila does whatever she wants with whoever she wants and Yuri has as much maturity about love as any other fifteen-year-old (which is none at all).

Mila raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at Victor and props a hand on her hip. “Really? But he’s _all_ over your Instagram-”

“I _know_ , it’s so annoying,” Yuri injects.

“And you two _aren’t_ dating?” Mila asks. Victor swishes around the contents in his cup – he’s not even sure what type of drink this is. Mila just pushed a cup of _something_ when he asked for their daily special – and gives a sigh.

“No. . .I don’t know what to do about me and him. . .I still think of him as my muse, but I don’t want to scare him away with my growing infatuation over him. He’s really. . .” Victor pauses as he tries to think of a word to describe Yuuri’s kind, quiet nature that involves sudden sparks of passion and confidence when Victor least expects it.

“. . .Flaky,” Mila suggests and Victor shakes his head.

“No.”

“Wishy-washy.”

“No, not that either.”

“A nerd,” Yuri states and Victor gives him a look.

“ _No_. He’s just. . .he sometimes lacks confidence. But he’s very kind and he’s _beautiful_ and when he _does_ get all confident and assertive he gets so _sexy_ -”

“Ewewewew, I do _not_ want to hear you call _anyone_ sexy,” Yuri spits, glaring at Mila. “Can’t we talk about something _else?_ Why do you have to bring up your stupid crush about this guy _all the time_?” Yuri complains and Mila shrugs.

“I kind of like hearing about it. It’s like a delicious soap opera without the ridiculous plot twists and bad acting,” Mila fawns and then leans against the counter. “Plus, it’s not like _you_ have any juicy love stories to talk about. When are you going to find yourself a date, Yura?”

Yuri clicks his tongue. “Like I need to waste my time drooling and barely functioning as a normal human being like _him_ ,” Yuri says, jutting a thumb over a Victor. “And as for _your_ love life, it’s just as trashy as those stupid magazines you always have your nose in,” Yuri criticizes and Mila cocks her head to the side. She smiles pleasantly, and instantly puts Yuri in a headlock in one swoop, her arm firm around his windpipe.

“Oh, aren’t you the _cutest_ thing ever when you talk like you understand everything about _love_ ,” Mila drawls while Yuri thrashes around in her hold. Victor steps back as Yuri kicks the counter, the two of them wrestling and throwing each other's weight around the small preparation space of the smoothie shop.

“Let go of me, you old hag!” Yuri yells, squirming out of her grasp. He huffs and stomps his foot, face red and irritated. “I’m going to do some _work_. You two are free to talk about that romance crap when _I’m_ not around to hear it,” Yuri growls, storming into the back kitchen area with a slam of the door.

Mila laughs and crosses her arms. “I can’t _wait_ until he has a crush on someone. It will be sweet, sweet justice,” Mila says and turns back to Victor. “But let’s get back to your love story,” Mila says with a smile. 

“Yes, the ‘delicious soap opera’,” Victor says with dry wit.

Mila twirls a finger in her red hair, contemplating Victor’s previous words about his muse as she closes her eyes.

“Why don’t you just date him once your exhibition thing is over? You won’t be paying him anymore, so it’s not like you’re being creepy and paying him to date you. Plus, if he rejects you, it won’t be _super_ awkward compared to him rejecting you now and still having to see you for the next few months,” Mila suggests with a shrug, like it isn’t all that hard to fathom. She’s very mature when she _wants_ to be.

Victor rubs the back of his neck. “My only concern is that I become obvious with my feelings for him and scare him away,” Victor confides.

“He’s not going to realize it,” Mila says with a handwave.

“How can you tell?” Victor asks and Mila snickers.

“Victor, no offense, but when you like something or someone, you get _really_ annoying about it. If he’s too dense to realize you have the hots for him while you act like you normally do, he’s _not_ going to notice it unless you wear a giant neon sign saying you’re in love with him. . .but no offense,” the girl says with a smile.

“None taken,” Victor says, returning the smile back. He glances at his watch and clicks his tongue. “I should probably head back to my place and gather my supplies for tonight. Thanks for the advice,” Victor says with a wink. Mila winks back, then she pushes the tip jar forward.

“So that will be ten bucks for the relationship advice,” she says and taps the rim of the jar. Victor blinks, then chuckles and reaches into his wallet to take out some money. The moment the money slips into the jar, Yuri instantly reappears at Mila’s side with a glare thrown in Victor’s direction.

“How come you’re giving _her_ a tip?! You never tip me!” Yuri shouts and Victor places a finger to his lips.

“Isn’t my unconditional love for my sweet, baby brother enough?” Victor asks with a smile and a shadow forms over Yuri’s brow.

“Get the fuck out of our store,” he spits and Victor laughs.

“Tell Mom I said hi!” Victor says with a chirp, kissing Yuri’s forehead before the teen can knock his teeth out and scurries out the front door with drink in tow.

Victor sighs to himself as he strolls down the street, sipping the smoothie that Victor believes is some tropical fruit blend but for some reason, also tastes like there’s grass mixed in. All Victor has to do is just be patient. He doesn’t need to rush things with Yuuri, especially if Yuuri isn’t going to be comfortable. Plus. . .Victor just wants to take this time to get to know Yuuri as a friend before he pursues him as a lover. There’s still so much to know about Yuuri. . .Victor doesn’t even know what the skater’s favorite color is.

The small toy store in the shopping center Victor passes through already has a Christmas window display up, even though they’re barely getting into November. In a clothing store next by, dressed mannequins are sitting around an artificial fireplace. Victor stops when he sees two mannequins in the far right corner closest to the entrance. They stand shoulder to shoulder in the ugliest Christmas sweaters Victor has seen in his life, one of them wearing obnoxiously patterned mittens that don’t even match the sweater they’re wearing.

. . . _That’s it_.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m _so_ sorry about the sandwich shop!” Yuuri apologizes, running through the doors into the ice skating rink where Victor waits patiently by the boards. Victor smiles, giving a wave as Yuuri dumps his duffle bag on the floor and quickly tries to grab his skates to put on.

“It’s alright. Everything is fine, right?” Victor asks and Yuuri nods his head.

“Yeah, of course. She had to throw up a couple of times, but she’s feeling a lot better. Thank you for being concerned,” Yuuri says and smiles. “Um, how’s the exhibition coming along?”

“We have a theme,” Victor says, moving to take a seat by Yuuri as he begins to lace up his skates. “The title of the exhibition is ‘One Day’. My friend is expecting the artists to contribute pieces that illustrate the theme of a moment in time, specifically over a twenty-four-hour timespan,” Victor explains and Yuuri furrows his eyebrows, befuddled.

“How will the pieces you’ve been making fit in with that theme?” Yuuri asks and Victor smiles.

“Well, the theme is quite simple on terms of how you want to approach it. You can depict about someone’s best day, their worst day. A wedding day, a day of birth, someone’s last day on Earth, the possibilities are endless,” Victor says and leans in close, brushing a lock of hair behind Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri’s skin grows pink in an instant as Victor continues. “For me, I want to illustrate a day in your life,” Victor murmurs and Yuuri looks over at him, cheeks warm and red.

“I. . .Are you sure? I mean,” Yuuri looks down, twiddling his thumbs, “I don’t live an exciting life. . .I pretty much only skate if I’m not working or being a couch potato at home. I don’t think my life will be interesting enough to fill part of a gallery,” Yuuri says with a sad little smile and Victor shakes his head.

He moves his hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek, turning Yuuri towards Victor so their eyes lock.

“Yuuri, you are my muse. You will _always_ be interesting to me,” Victor says, his voice warm and nothing but a low whisper for only Yuuri’s ears.

Yuuri doesn’t pull away like before. Victor sees the color rising in the man’s skin as his palm caresses Yuuri’s left cheek, but he doesn’t flinch at all from Victor’s touch. Victor’s eyes glance down to Yuuri’s lips, soft and shiny and kissable. Yuuri pulls his lower lip in between his teeth for a second, running his tongue over his bottom lip and _oh_. Victor doesn’t _think_ Yuuri did that on purpose, but now he _really_ wants to kiss him.

Victor runs his thumb over Yuuri’s cheekbone just underneath his eye, before he smiles and pulls his hand away. No, he can't let his desires override his composure now. Just be patient and professional. Yuuri _does_ shudder the moment Victor's hand leaves his face however, like the sudden cool of the rink has hit him at full force. Both look away, Yuuri staring at his skates as if he has forgotten how to tie them after a hundred times, while Victor gazes out at the empty ice rink.

“. . .Yuuri, how big is your hand?” Victor asks after a couple minutes of awkward silence. 

“ _Huh_?” 

“Your hand. How big is it?” Victor repeats and Yuuri raises an eyebrow at him.

“Of all the strange questions you’ve asked me, this is the weirdest,” Yuuri says with a small smile, and looks at his hands and rosy fingertips. “Um. . .I don’t know. This big?” he asks and shows them to Victor.

Victor takes Yuuri’s hands – and _wow_ , if he just would have waited until this moment instead of impulsively grabbing Yuuri that previous night – and inspects them, running his thumb over Yuuri’s open palms. “Do you have any specific reason for wanting to know? Like. . .is this some art thing?” Yuuri asks and Victor turns Yuuri’s hands over, glancing at his knuckles.

“It’s a secret~” Victor purrs, gently swinging Yuuri’s hands from side to side as he now just indulges in the fact that he’s holding Yuuri’s hands like the lovesick fool he is. “By the way, what’s your favorite color?” Victor questions nonchalantly.

“Um. . .blue I suppose?” Yuuri says and Victor nods his head. Yuuri lets Victor swing his hands from side to side for a couple more seconds, before he gives a little laugh. “So do you want me to skate or. . .”

“Of course I want to see you skate. It’s the highlight of my day,” Victor says, releasing Yuuri’s hands to allow the skater to continue lacing up his skates. His cheeks are still pink and the tips of his ears are just as rosy. Yuuri’s lips are curled into a small smile that Victor watches out of the corner of his eye. Yuuri rises to his feet and slips off his glasses, handing them to Victor as he steps forward towards the rink.

Yuuri pauses halfway and turns, a mixture of nervousness mixed with confidence in his eyes.

“Um, so I’ve been watching a lot of exhibition programs from previous years for things I might want to try. There’s some movements I’m pretty good at, and some I’m still struggling on. . .but,” Yuuri closes his hands into fists and there it is. That shimmer of passion in those beautiful brown eyes as he breathes out, “please watch me.” 

Victor nods and smiles, folding his hands over his sketchbook.

“Of course. You’re all I want to look at tonight,” Victor says, meaning every single word.

Yuuri nods, swallows, then leans against the boards to take off his guards and step onto the ice.

 

* * *

 

“Vitya, when were you going to tell me you were dating someone?" 

Victor laughs and takes the heavy dinner plate loaded with food from his mother’s soft hands. “Because I’m _not_ dating anyone, Mama,” Victor says through his smile. Yuri clicks his tongue, taking the plate his mother offers him as well before she takes a seat at the table.

“He’s just obsessed about him. It’s _super_ creepy, Mama. He has the guy’s face all over his apartment like a crazy stalker,” Yuri snitches, like he’s expecting their mother to knock some sense into her eldest son since _obviously_ Victor won’t listen to him.

His mother begins to cut into her potatoes and gives a small hum. “ _Are_ you becoming a crazy stalker, Vitya?” his mother asks with a joking lilt in her voice, tilting her head to the side and smiling.

“No. He’s my _muse_. I’m just creating art for the exhibition. You’ll come, right?” Victor asks and she nods her head.

“Of course, of course~ I love looking at your art, Vitya. But when are you going to start dating that boy that’s in all of your photos on that Instant thing?” his mother asks curiously.

“Instagram, Mama. _Instagram_ ,” Yuri corrects.

“He’s shy. I don’t want to overwhelm him and make things awkward between us, so I’m going to take my time and get to know him better. Speaking of which,” Victor says, turning his fork between his fingers, “Mama, could you show me how to knit? I want to make him a present for Christmas.”

“Knitting? You know, the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” his mother says, resting her cheek in her hand. “When your Papa was still here, I always cooked him a feast and he loved every single one. There’s nothing like the feeling of watching someone you love enjoy a meal you put your heart and soul into,” she says with a heavenly sigh.

“Mama, I can’t cook. You even said that I can barely _boil water_ ,” Victor states and she gives a handwave.

“Then that gives you all the more reason to learn!” she chirps, dismissing Victor’s incredulous look with a laugh and another bite of her food.

Well, Victor supposes he _has_ to get his obnoxiously headstrong personality from somewhere.

“I don’t even know what his favorite meal is anyways. Mama, can you _please_ just show me anyways?” Victor asks, voice _begging_ for his mother to just listen for a few seconds.

She waves her hand again and nods her head. “Okay okay~ You’ll have to remind me though~” she sing-songs, leaning forward to wipe a bit of gravy off Yuri’s cheek as he tears into his meal. Yuri lets her do it, although Victor sees that his cheeks suddenly flush with color in embarrassment. Had Mila joined them for dinner like she occasionally does, there definitely will be screaming and the sounds of a phone’s camera shutter going off.

Satisfied with her grooming, his mother leans back into her chair and goes back to her dinner.

“. . .So, does your boyfriend want to have children, Vitya?” his mother asks after a few moments of food being chewed and clinking of silverware. Victor already begins to feel a headache forming.

“Mama, not _this_ again. And he’s not my. . .” Victor sighs, because it will be a lot easier to just go with it. “I don’t know; I haven’t asked him,” Victor says after a few seconds, a warm feeling in his stomach at the thought of Yuuri and children. He seemed to enjoy seeing them at the skating rink that one time, but he doesn’t know if Yuuri has thought of becoming a parent.

“Oh please do! He’ll be coming for supper soon, won’t he?” his mother asks, absolutely excited at the prospect that Victor _might_ have found someone that he is willing to settle down with and adopt a bunch of children she can bake cookies and knit sweaters for.

“I’ll. . .think about it. . .” Victor says slowly. “But if I _do_ , can you promise me you won’t be _too_ overbearing?”

“Of course, of course~” his mother laughs and beams with rosy cheeks, “I’m going to cook up a big Christmas dinner for him to enjoy. He looks so skinny in those photos, Vitya~” his mother purrs.

Dinner is spent with his mother grilling Victor over details about Yuuri that even _he_ doesn’t know yet and Yuri rolling his eyes every five seconds and grumbling that Yuuri is now intruding into his life at home. When Victor leaves with a full stomach, a bag of dog treats for Makkachin and a kiss on the cheek from his mother, he’s sure that Yuuri has been inducted into the Nikiforov family without even knowing it.

 

* * *

 

One week later, Victor begins to learn how to knit and how to prepare a decent meal that won’t give someone food poisoning. 

Knitting is a lot more difficult than he thought.

Cooking is even worse.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri turns around awkwardly, bracing his right foot against the faucet of the tub as he tries to get comfortable.

“Uh, I’m not sure what I should do?” Yuuri tells Victor, who is leaning against the sink counter and has a large sketchpad balanced on his knee.

“Just act naturally,” Victor says simply. Yuuri sighs and pulls his knees up to his chest.

“It’s kind of hard for me to act naturally when I’m wearing swim trunks and sitting in another man’s bathtub,” Yuuri says and glances around at the gentle sea foam color of the walls and the white bath towels hanging on a silver hook. “It’s very nice in here though,” Yuuri muses and Victor nods his head.

“Well, we don’t have to rush this. Do you want to just. . .talk and wait till you feel a little bit more comfortable?” Victor suggests. His eyes move over Yuuri’s tense form, how he recedes and curls up in Victor’s large bathtub as if he’s trying to hide as much of his exposed skin from Victor’s gaze. Yuuri’s legs are smooth and lean; his hips are curvy in the tight swim trunks and his body is a soft rosy hue.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not used to posing like this,” Yuuri says into his knee, regretful.

“It’s alright. I don’t want to push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We can always think of an alternative, like you brushing your teeth or combing your hair or some other kind of grooming as a daily activity. It’s more important for me that you look natural in the painting instead of looking stiff anyways,” Victor says and Yuuri shakes his head.

“No, I-I want to do this painting. I think it will look better than those ones. Just. . .give me a moment to get my head clear,” Yuuri murmurs and Victor nods his head.

“Of course. Do you want me to leave?” Victor asks and Yuuri glances away.

“No. . .I don’t want you to leave,” Yuuri says quietly. Victor pauses, then nods his head and closes his sketchbook.

“Okay. Then I’ll stay. . .Yuuri, would you want children?” Victor asks and Yuuri glances up at him.

“Why do you ask?”

“Ahh, just curious~”

Yuuri rubs his chin. “Hmm. . .maybe? I don’t know, I didn’t really give much thought about raising a family. . .what about you?” Yuuri asks, his smile growing teasing as his eyes crinkle and fill with mirth. “Are you going to remain a bachelor for the rest of your life?”

“Hmm, my mother won’t let me be a bachelor for long. I’m only glad she hasn’t tried setting me up on a blind date in her quest for grandchildren,” Victor says and Yuuri laughs. His voice echoes in the bathroom and it resonates in Victor’s chest, warming his heart and sending a pleasant chill up his spine.

“She’s that kind of parent, huh? What about your father?” Yuuri inquires and Victor pauses.

“Ah. . .he. . .he passed away a couple years ago actually,” Victor says. Instantly, the bright smile on Yuuri’s face is wiped away, and the skater pulls himself in tighter as if retreating into an awkward shell.

“Oh. . .I’m sorry-”

“No, no. It’s fine. You didn’t know-” Victor reassures and Yuuri drops his face down.

“But still, it hurts to think about a loved one that’s gone,” he says quietly and Victor rests his sketchbook on the sink, getting to his knees and kneeling beside Yuuri in the bath. Victor leans against the side of it, looking over Yuuri’s soft and timid figure.

“It’s okay. . .it’s not like he passed away with any regrets. He loved us, he provided for us, and he was always really supportive of me and what I wanted to do. He went to my exhibitions every day that he could, and even bought some of my artwork when I could have just painted him something for free,” Victor says and gives a small chuckle. “You know, he was the first person I came out to when I was younger, cause I was afraid he would be the one that would be the most angry about it and I just wanted to get it over with. My mother is a bit on the ditzy side, so I wasn’t that concerned about how she’d react.”

“Hmm, so that’s where you get it from,” Yuuri muses, one big brown pupil peeking over at Victor. Victor sticks his tongue out and Yuuri laughs, cheeks pink.

“Anyways, he was a real, manly man. Like, he would want to wrestle anything that moved, he would drink bottles and bottles of alcohol without getting the least bit tipsy, and he had this _amazing_ mustache,” Victor says, gently tracing a line above his upper lip.

“So when I told him, I was worried that he might think I’m. . .not really a man because I’m attracted to guys. But he just pulled me into one of his bear hugs and told me that he’ll always love me and nothing would ever stop him from loving me. He always called me every day to check if I was doing okay with money, with my relationships, and being on my own away from home. He always spent the summer with me and Yuri doing whatever we wanted to do, whether that be going to art museums or heavy metal concerts. . .I feel sad that he’s gone sometimes, but I’m still happy that I had someone like him as a father.”

Yuuri smiles. “He sounded like he was an amazing man. . .your mother, she doesn’t-”

“Oh, she’s accepts me too, and she’s just as wonderful. Me being gay isn’t going to stop her from wanting a grandkid though. Adoption and surrogacy are still possible routes,” Victor says with a sigh and Yuuri laughs. His shoulders relax a little bit as he flexes and straightens his right leg.

“When I told my parents I was bisexual, all they said was ‘ok’ and gave me all the pork cutlet bowls I wanted for dinner that night,” Yuuri says and leans back in the bathtub, looking up at the ceiling with a warm smile on his lips. “I remember how they always tried to talk to people that were my type and try and set me up on a date with them. My father once tried to set me up with a guy that sells fish at the local market and it was _so_ embarrassing,” Yuuri groans, placing his hands to his face as if just _remembering_ it is enough to cause him physical pain.

“Ah, so you _did_ have an ex-lover,” Victor says intrigued and Yuuri peeks between his fingers.

“Not even. We couldn’t even hold a regular conversation without just promoting our business to each other. Didn’t make it past the first ‘date’, if you can even call it that. But my parents still buy his fish so the story has a happy ending at least,” Yuuri says with a shrug.

“Your parents sound like lovely people,” Victor says and cocks his head to the side. “Do you think they would like to come to the exhibition? I can ask my friend for a special invite,” Victor suggests and Yuuri looks over at him, eyes bright.

“Yeah! I mean, they’re not really artsy kind of people, but I’m sure they’d enjoy it!” Yuuri says excitedly and Victor nods his head with a smile and gives a thumbs up. Yuuri turns more towards Victor, looking directly into Victor’s ocean-blue eyes. “You know. . .it’s funny. . .I always get worried about posing for you because I feel like I’m not giving you anything worthwhile to look at,” Yuuri says quietly.

“But. . .you never force me to do anything I don’t want to do. And you’re always so patient with me when I’m feeling like I’m not giving it my all. I want to feel confident and sexy whenever you draw me, and it’s still a struggle to feel comfortable being on display like this and step out of my comfort zone. But you always meet me halfway. . .and I’m really thankful for that, Victor,” Yuuri says and Victor blinks.

“. . .Of course. I’m thankful that you’re opening up to me little by little,” Victor says. He reaches forward, brushing a stray lock of hair back out of Yuuri’s face. “And I’m very thankful for the endless inspiration you give me whenever I look at you,” Victor whispers.

He begins to move his hand away, but Yuuri suddenly takes hold of it by Victor’s wrist. His grip is gentle and soft as his eyes move downwards and holds Victor's hand against his cheek. Yuuri doesn't lean into the touch, but he's not in that big of hurry to get away from it either. 

Victor feels like his heart is crawling its way out of his chest and up his throat. It’s beating so _loudly_ ; he hopes that Yuuri can’t hear it while they silently gaze over each other’s faces. Yuuri’s hand is getting a little bit sweaty, and to be honest Victor is sure his own hand is the same. His left hand is itching to grab hold of Yuuri’s shoulder and pull him in for a kiss. But he _can’t_ fuck things up now! Not when they just had such a nice moment! 

Yuuri furrows his eyebrows and looks over Victor’s shoulder.

“Do you hear something?” he asks and Victor swallows a lump, looking over his shoulder as well.

It takes a moment to hear over his ridiculously loud heartbeat in his ears, but he eventually hears the sound of paws gently scratching at the door and Makkachin’s whimpering. It’s only been a half hour since he and Yuuri disappeared into the bathroom, but to Makkachin that must feel like _years_.

Victor sighs and pulls his hand back, getting to his feet to unlock the bathroom door.

“Makkachin, can you just wait a bi-” Makkachin _forces_ his way into the bathroom, excitedly barking as he jumps directly onto Yuuri in the bathtub. Victor turns around fast, mildly irritated with his beloved pooch. He opens his mouth to snap at Makkachin to stop and leave, but pauses when he sees how Yuuri is laughing and playing with Makkachin in the empty bathtub. Yuuri runs his hands through Makkachin’s fur and kisses his nose, fawning over him while Makkachin licks all over Yuuri’s face.

Quietly, Victor goes over to pick up his sketchbook and pencil. He assumes a comfortable positon, and begins to draw.

After Yuuri has thoroughly rubbed Makkachin all over, the poodle hops out of the bathtub and lays down on the rug beside it. Yuuri sits up and leans over the side, gently rubbing Makkachin’s back with a soft smile on his lips.

“You’re so lucky to have a pet. The apartments me and Phichit live in don’t allow animals,” Yuuri says with a small pout.

“Would you want a dog, Yuuri?” Victor asks, moving to sketch Yuuri’s smile.

“Yes. Maybe when I move and find my own place, I can get a dog like Makkachin,” Yuuri says and Victor clucks his tongue.

“Makkachin is a one-of-a-kind dog. You won’t find another one like him in the entire world,” Victor chastises and Yuuri looks up at him through his eyelashes, chocolate eyes gleaming with a mischievous edge.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to steal him from you,” Yuuri says with a little smirk. He reaches down and holds Makkachin’s face. “Huh, Makkachin? Would you want to come back home with me?” Yuuri asks. Makkachin licks at Yuuri’s wrists, his tail wagging back and forth and _very_ happy at the thought. Victor doesn’t blame him; if given the opportunity, Victor would love to run away with Yuuri too.

They spend an hour or so in the bathroom, Yuuri lazily rubbing Makkachin’s belly while Victor draws and forms an image on the sketchbook’s paper. Eventually, Yuuri has to get up from cramps and Victor obliges. They exit the bathroom and Yuuri heads back to Victor’s bedroom to change into something comfortable for the time being, while Victor feeds Makkachin his dinner and flops on his couch.

Yuuri reappears after a couple of minutes in some sweats and his glasses, looking absolutely cuddly and warm in Victor's eyes.

“Do you have to head home soon?” Victor asks and Yuuri glances over at Victor’s clock on the wall.

“Hmm, I’m not in a hurry,” Yuuri says and gives a little smile, scratching the back of his head. “Phichit has some friends over and I don’t want to intrude or anything,” Yuuri says and Victor raises an eyebrow. 

“Why? Are they not good people?”

“No, no! That’s not it!” Yuuri quickly says. “Guang-Hong is really nice and friendly, and Seung Gil is polite. He’s _intense_ , but he’s polite. I just don’t want to feel out of place being there since I don’t know them as well as Phichit does,” Yuuri says and Victor nods his head, rubbing his chin.

This is it.

This his opportunity to not be weird by offering to make Yuuri dinner!

Victor runs a hand through his hair nonchalantly. “Well, in that case,” he begins, voice cool and calm and not all giving away how _ecstatic_ he is, “I’ll be fine if you stay for dinner.”

Yuuri raises his hands, immediately shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to do that! It’s fine, I can always grab something to eat on my way home-”

“But I just received a recipe from my mother that I wanted to make and you are my perfect choice to try it,” Victor says, leaning over the back of the couch. Yuuri crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side.

“Do you want me as a guest for dinner, or a guinea pig for this new recipe?”

“If I said you’re a very _cute_ guinea pig, will you stay?” Victor purrs.

Yuuri doesn’t look quite convinced.

Victor tries to think of a way to salvage this conversation and keep Yuuri from leaving.

He sighs and stretches his arms outwards. “Are you going to make me beg for you to stay? My little brother says I’m _extremely_ embarrassing once I start getting desperate. I wouldn’t want Makkachin to see his Papa at his lowest because his muse won’t grace him with his presence at dinner,” Victor says, forlorn and sad.

(Of course, Makkachin already seen how desperate Victor was when he tried to find out Yuuri’s identity in the beginning, but Yuuri doesn’t need to know that little detail yet).

Yuuri smiles and gives a little laugh that is breathy and bemused and sucker punches Victor in the gut all at once.

“Okay. I don’t think I want to see you get desperate either,” Yuuri says and swings his hands back and forth. “So, um. . .I’ll just. . .call Phichit and let him know that I’m staying over here a little bit longer.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.”

A beat of silence pass where neither of them move from their spots. It gets more comfortable and common in Victor’s mind, but it’s still ridiculous how often it happens. Victor laughs. “We really need to stop doing this,” he says and Yuuri jumps from his spot, like he was in deep thought about something. His face flushes red and he laughs too, nodding his head before he heads back to Victor’s bedroom to make his phone call.

Part of Victor wants to eavesdrop on Yuuri’s conversation to see just what the skater talks about with his best friend. Phichit probably knows what kind of person Yuuri is attracted to. He might know what Yuuri’s likes and dislikes, what his favorite food is and what kind of present Yuuri would want for Christmas. But, Victor shakes his head and decides against it, rising to his feet to head to the kitchen.

He pulls out a small notepad that his mother had rewrote his grandmother’s recipe for stroganoff on, complete with little hearts and reminders in Russian to ask Yuuri about having kids.  Ignoring the doodles for now, he reads the list of ingredients he needs and has bought in advance, going into his fridge and his cabinet to gather up all the spices and fixings.

Okay, he can do this. Stroganoff is simple. All he has to do is boil pasta and cook some meat and throw the rest of this stuff in there and _bam!_ Easy as pie.

Victor washes up and sucks in a breath. Alright, let’s do this.

He looks at the recipe and figures that he should start on the meat first since that will probably be his biggest obstacle. He clears some space on the counter and takes a cutting board and knife, placing two pieces of steak on top. First, trim the extra fat. Victor does so, turning the steaks around on the cutting board to cut off the excess chunks and to cut the steaks into smaller cubes. Well, not _super_ small cubes.

“Do you want me to help?” Yuuri’s voice filters into Victor’s ears and he glances over to his left, seeing Yuuri peeking into the kitchen. Victor shakes his head and smiles.

“No, you’re my guest! Just relax and play with Makkachin,” Victor says and goes back to preparing the meat. He then awkwardly gathers up the meat and drops it into a frying pan, switching on the heat on high. “You’re going to try my mother’s delicious stroganoff, handed down from generation to generation!”

“Sounds nice. . .” Yuuri’s voice sound mildly distracted, his eyes on the meat currently sizzling in the pan. Victor wipes his hands on a clean towel. Okay, he can cut up the onions while the meat is cooking so they’re ready. He grabs the onion off the counter and is about to place it down on the cutting board when Yuuri _shrieks_. Victor jumps and his head whirs over to Yuuri’s direction, who has his hand outstretched towards the onion in Victor’s hand.

“What’s wrong? Are you allergic to onions?” Victor asks worriedly and Yuuri places his hands over his mouth, embarrassed he made that noise and eyes cast downwards.

“Uh, just, maybe you should. . .wash the cutting board and knife before you start cutting the vegetables? Germs and things,” Yuuri says behind his fingers. Victor blinks, then glances at the cutting board that _is_ a bit dirty. Yuuri walks into the kitchen and takes the cutting board into his hands and the knife away from Victor. “I’ll rinse these off for you,” Yuuri says as he already heads towards Victor’s sink.

Victor watches Yuuri quietly clean off the cutting board and knife, and also washes his hands in the process, before he dries and brings the items back to their spot on the counter. Yuuri places his hands behind his back and steps away. “Um. . .you can continue?” Yuuri says unsure, like he doesn’t know if he just overstepped an invisible line. Victor nods and places the onion down on the clean surface of the cutting board.

Victor takes the knife and clumsily cuts off the ends, straining his eyes to follow his mother’s method of cutting the onion into proper slices. He sets the onion onto one of its flat side and then cuts it vertically. He feels Yuuri’s eyes on him as he makes one slow cut, then another and another. Ugh, he probably looks like he has _no idea_ what he’s doing.

“. . .Victor?” Yuuri pipes up when Victor has made five cuts that are differing in thickness and are lopsided, “Do you want me to show you how to cut it?”

Victor hangs his head in defeat. “Please do.”

Yuuri moves over to the counter as Victor steps out of the way and hands over the knife. “See? You just tuck your fingers in like this and-” _chopchopchopchopchopchop_

Victor barely has the time to blink. The onion half is gone and all that remains on the board are perfect slices next to Victor’s ugly mess. Yuuri looks up at Victor, eyes sparkling. “You got it?”

“. . .No, but can you show me again?”

Yuuri smiles and nods his head once. He takes the other half of the onion and places it down on the cutting board. Then, he hands Victor the knife and guides the artist’s hands over to the cutting board. Victor moves so he’s standing behind Yuuri, his arms around Yuuri’s body and keeping him in place.

“Tuck your fingers into your palm like this,” Yuuri instructs, gently pushing Victor’s fingers inwards. “And you hold the knife like this and cut with a sort of rocking motion,” Yuuri says, moving Victor’s hand to cut a perfect slice.

It honestly goes in one ear and out the other for Victor. Yuuri’s hair is tickling his chin as he moves and guides Victor to cut the onion, talking and teaching Victor how to properly cut it and different dicing techniques he can do if he wants to mince them into smaller pieces. Yuuri radiates a pleasant body heat, warm and comforting. Victor’s head subconsciously tips downwards and he closes his eyes.

Yuuri smells like. . .chocolate. And bubblegum.

“Victor, are you listening-” Yuuri’s head turns and they’re instantly face to face and _far_ too close. Victor feels Yuuri’s warm breath on his lips as his eyes go wide and red fills his face. Victor doesn’t move, but he doesn’t know if it’s out of embarrassment for realizing he just smelled Yuuri and _definitely_ got caught, or if it’s because Yuuri is so _close_ and so _beautiful_.

Victor’s eyes move down to Yuuri’s chapped lips. He _really_ wants to kiss him-

 

**_BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_ **

****

Both of them begin to scream and Victor’s arms lock around Yuuri’s body in a reflexive hold, pining Yuuri's arms to his sides as the siren noise gets _louder_.

“What’s going on?! What’s happening?!” Yuuri screeches.

He gets his answer when a large burst of fire and smoke erupts from the pan currently burning the meat beside them.

Victor and Yuuri’s screams get as loud as the smoke alarm in the background.

Yuuri staggers backwards, which in turn makes Victor trip over his own feet in Yuuri’s attempt to get them both away from the fire. Victor falls to the ground and takes Yuuri with him, still firmly in his grasp. Yuuri rolls out of Victor’s arms and gets on all fours, crawling away from the kitchen in complete disarray.

“What do we do?! Who do we – the fire apartment! Oh god, what’s the emergency number? Where’s my cell phone?! Makkachin, get back! Victor!” Yuuri rambles in a panic, putting his hands in his hair. Victor scrambles to his feet, running to turn off the stove before he grabs a pot full of water from the sink and douses the flames with it. 

A large cloud of smoke and steam forms in the kitchen and Victor fans it away, running past Yuuri still panicking on the floor and Makkachin gently pulling Yuuri by the sleeve of his sweats away from the kitchen, to reset the smoke detector in his hallway before other people in the apartment building get notified. Once he does and the alarm’s blaring noise abruptly stops, Victor sucks in a deep breath and runs a hand over his face.

He walks back into the living room and opens up the window to let out the smoke. Victor walks into the kitchen and inspects the scorch mars and ash on the countertop of his stove. In the pan that caught fire is just a crisp black heap of inedible meat. Those are the only steaks he bought; he didn't think he would need any more meat than what his mother had specified in the recipe. He didn't even get to the part where he makes the pasta. They were _barely getting started_ and  _this_ happens. 

Victor then walks over to Yuuri, lying face down on the ground with all energy already drained out of him. Victor drops down to his knees and flops onto the ground beside him, groaning into the floor. Well, he _told_ his mother he can’t cook.

Makkachin pads back and forth between them, licking at both of their hands and their faces. When he deduces that the humans are, indeed, still breathing and still very much alive, he snuggles in between the two of them.

“. . .Are you okay?” Yuuri asks quietly and Victor glances up from behind his arm.

“Yeah. . .are you okay?” Victor asks.

“. . .Yeah, just give me moment,” Yuuri murmurs and exhales. He pushes himself onto his elbows and rubs his face, his glasses going askew on his nose. “So. . .does that happen often?”

“Setting my kitchen on fire? No, just for you,” Victor says into the floor. He can’t bring himself to lift his head up; god, this is _really_ lame. He’s a twenty-seven-year old man and he can’t even cook _meat_. He doesn’t even know how he managed to survive for this long. 

He hears something shift beside him and peeks from behind his arm again. Yuuri is sitting on his knees, looking down at Victor with mild pity.

“Um. . .do you want to order a pizza?” Yuuri asks. Victor’s eyes widen and he gets to his knees as well.

“You still want to have dinner with me?” Victor questions and Yuuri cocks his head to the side, adorably confused.

“Of course I do. Why would I change my – ack!”

Victor knocks Yuuri down in a hug, Makkachin jumping up to join in on the group cuddle.

“Yuuri, you’re such a good person~” Victor mewls and Yuuri’s arms flail out.

“Victor! You’re crushing me! Ahah, no wait, not there! Wait – hahahah! It tickles! Stop!” Yuuri laughs as Victor and Makkachin smother him and Victor’s laughs begin to mix with Yuuri’s, until their voices fill the apartment in a jovial echo that vibrates off the walls.

 

* * *

 

" _Vitya, how was the dinner? Did he love it? Did you mention having children to him? Does he want a boy or a girl? I just saw the cutest little dresses for a baby girl and I already bought-_ "

"Mama, don't do that. We're not even  _together_ yet. . .and I almost set the kitchen on fire so children were the last thing on my mind," Victor says with the phone tucked in between his ear and his shoulder. He adds a light touch of red to Yuuri's lips as he paints a picture of Yuuri biting into an extra cheesy slice of pizza, eyes glancing up at the viewer as if to ask if they want a bite as well. Victor learned that night that Yuuri is a very 'clean eater', if that's even a phrase. Compared to Victor, who got cheese and sauce all over his hands and fingers and had Yuuri laughing at the mess all over his mouth right before he gently wipes it away with a napkin. 

" _. . .Oh, Vitya. That was the easiest thing I could think of that you could make_ ," his mother says sadly. " _Does he not want children anymore?_ "

"You're missing the point, Mama," Victor says and his mother hums.

" _What about the mittens? What did he say about those?_ "

Victor looks at the heap of yarn on his coffee table. It's a tangled mess of different shades of blue, and not even close to resembling a pair of wearable mittens.

"I'm. . .getting there. . ." he eventually says and his mother coos.

" _Then there's still hope! Just remember our lesson and he'll love it! Oooh, I'm so happy for you, Vitya! Everything will be just fine!_ " his mother shouts excitedly.

His mother's lesson of how to knit was literally ten minutes of her knitting one row to form a wrist and explaining that Victor just needs to do the exact same thing 'a bunch of times'.

Victor sighs, but smiles and hums. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Mama."

" _I love you, Vitya. Tell your boyfriend I said hi!_ " his mother chirps.

"Yeah, okay I will," Victor says with a laugh and hangs up the phone. He places his cell phone on the table and goes back to his painting, admiring the soft hues of Yuuri's skin contrasting the bright colors of the background and the food Yuuri is holding. So far, he still needs to plan out a story of Yuuri's day that can be easy to follow without having to use words. The skating paintings will be the climax of the story, seeing Yuuri try and fall and work hard and become so enthralling that you can't look away from him as he skates. He wants to create a story where Yuuri metamorphoses from this shy and unnoticeable man, to a beautiful and confident skater that enthralls the masses and returns back to his daily life. . .like a Cinderella story in watercolors and charcoal and ink.

He wants everyone to see how beautiful Yuuri is.

He wants  _Yuuri_ to see how beautiful he is.

There's a knock on his door and Victor glances over, resting his palette on the floor as Makkachin jumps up from his spot and immediately runs to the door to answer it. Victor wipes his paint stained hands on his pants before he opens the door, eyes widening when he sees Yuuri on the other side. Yuuri's head is turned down and his shoulders are hunched up to his reddened ears. In his hands are some Tupperware filled with food that tickles Victor's nose with such a delicious scent and reminds his stomach that he is  _starving_.

"Yuuri? What are you doing here? I thought this was a day off for you?" Victor asks and Yuuri flinches.

"I just - I wanted - I - well there's - uh - and I didn't know - I -" Victor has  _never_ seen a human actually short circuit in front of him, but Yuuri is doing just that. He's twitching and growing red and his sentences are coming out broken and nervous and not making any sense. Eventually, Yuuri just thrusts the Tupperware forward and screams out at the floor "I hope you enjoy it!"

Down the hallway, the tenant from 4B opens their door and peeks to see what the hell is going on and who is screaming.

Victor takes the Tupperware and opens the lid, seeing that it is a big heaping bowl of chanpon. It smells  _heavenly_ ; Victor already feels his mouth watering just from the sight and the smell of it. He looks over at Yuuri as he closes the lid back, smiling softly.

"You made this for me?"

"I - we had a lot extra and I didn't want it to go to waste so I just," Yuuri stands up straight, holding his reddened face as he tries to think of his next random string of words. "Um, if you want, I can show you how to cook some things. I helped my mother a lot in the kitchen when I was younger, so I picked up a few tricks and recipes," Yuuri says and looks up at Victor. "If you want?"

Victor smiles and nods his head. "Yeah, I'd like that!" he chirps and Yuuri smiles back, sticking his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker.

"O-Okay! I'll see you later!" Yuuri says with a laugh and Victor nods his head. Both of them begin to step backwards  _very_ slowly, eyes locked on the other's face. 

"I'll see you later on in the week," Victor says and Yuuri nods his head.

"It's going to be a nice evening to go to the outdoor rink," Yuuri points out and Victor hums in agreement. He steps on Makkachin's squeaky toy and almost trips, but catches himself by the door handle and keeps a firm hand on the meal that Yuuri made for him. 

"Yeah, I'll buy us hot chocolate with marshmallows," Victor says and Yuuri's cheeks grow warm and pink.

"Sounds great," he breathes.

"Yeah, great."

"Yeah. . ." Yuuri laughs and Victor begins to laugh along with him, loud and bright and  _so damn happy._

"You two are being noisy!" the tenant from 4B shouts from behind their door down the hall.

Yuuri jumps, stumbling backwards into the wall as he sputters out a quick apology. He turns back to Victor and gives a little wave goodbye, before he hurries down the hall past the irritated tenant's door. Once Yuuri is out of sight and once the tenant from 4B gives Victor an agitated glare and slams their door shut, Victor closes his apartment door shut and immediately heads to the kitchen. He clears off a space on his dining table and grabs a fork and spoon to take his first bite of noodles and vegetables and broth.

It's  _wonderful_.

 

* * *

 

“You mean after you creepily smelled his hair and almost set him on fire, he _still_ wants to hang around you?” 

Victor nods his head, painting soap bubbles in Makkachin’s fur for the painting of Yuuri in the bath and lazily rubbing Makkachin’s belly. Yuri gapes, then leans against the couch cushion and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Well, _shit_. Maybe you two _are_ perfect for each other since you’re both so _stupid_ ,” Yuri deadpans.

Victor just smiles.

 

* * *

 

**50 likes**

**yuri-katsuki:** Spending time with my family **@yu-topiakatsuki**! I missed my mother’s home cooking!

 

Yuuri is seated at a table with a wide spread of food in front of him. His parents are leaning in close to get in the picture with pleasant smiles. In another picture, a woman with pierced ears and highlights has her arm thrown around Yuuri’s shoulders and is pulling him in for a selfie. Ah, she must be the elder sister. Yuuri looks a lot like his mother, Victor notes. They both have that same round softness to their face. 

Victor likes the photo and spams emojis in his comment wishing Yuuri to have fun, before he places his phone down and goes back to the project in his lap. So far, he has the left mitten knitted up. It’s uglier than the professionally produced one that mannequin was wearing in the window display, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

Yuuri will be too nice to say that he hates them to Victor’s face, but he’s not good at hiding his discomfort if Victor giving him presents will be awkward. Should he give them to Yuuri on their last meeting before Christmas? Or should he invite Yuuri to Christmas dinner and give it then, so at least it’ll be under the guise of everyone else giving gifts to each other. But. . .Victor wants Yuuri to know how special he thinks he is. He doesn’t want to lose the meaning of the gift with the wrong atmosphere, but he doesn’t want to make things weird by putting them in an overly Christmas/’sappy chick flick’/obnoxiously romantic setting either!

Victor groans. “Makkachin~ your Papa is having romantic issues,” Victor complains. Makkachin senses that he is needed, and drops his squeaky toy on the ground to jump up into Victor’s lap. Victor places the knitting on the coffee table next to his sketchbook and rubs Makkachin’s face. “You need to tell me your secret. How can you get Yuuri to kiss you all over and want to kidnap you?”

Makkachin’s eyes sparkle and Victor hums. “ _It’s because I’m an adorable poodle!_ ” Victor says in a voice that will probably be Makkachin’s if dogs can talk. Slightly deep and happy 1000000% of the time.

“But I can’t become an adorable poodle like you, Makkachin. What else can I do?” Victor asks. Makkachin braces his paws against Victor’s stomach and licks his face.

“ _Just be your normally handsome self!_ ” ‘Makkachin’ chirps.

“Makkachin, you flatter me,” Victor laughs, rubbing Makkachin’s back.

Victor’s cellphone begins to ring and he gently nudges Makkachin back as he reaches for the phone, eyes widening when he sees that it’s Yuuri calling and the image of Yuuri skating fills the screen.

Victor answers it in a heartbeat and raises it to his ear. “Hello?” he answers.

_Click!_

Victor pauses, pulling the phone away to see that the call is over before it even began. He looks at Makkachin, who doesn’t understand what’s going on either, and back at the phone. He’s sure he didn’t imagine Yuuri calling-

The phone’s screen illuminates again, Yuuri’s number and picture flashing up as Victor’s ringtone sounds again. Victor lets it ring for a bit, then answers and places the phone back to his ear.

“. . .Hello?”

“ _. . .Hah, hah. Hey_ ,” Yuuri laughs, awkward. Victor smiles, rubbing Makkachin’s back as the dog gets comfortable on his lap.

“Hey. Did you just call me a few seconds ago?” Victor asks.

“ _. . .Yeah, I did. . .I hung up because I panicked_ ,” Yuuri explains and sucks in a quick breath, “ _Well, because, you know, I didn’t see you this weekend since I went to my parent’s place and I. . .I don’t know, I guess I kind of missed your voice? Which is dumb and super embarrassing, oh my god why did I say that out loud ugggghhh_.”

Victor laughs. “You’re so cute, Yuuri,” Victor chuckles and he hears Yuuri huff. “So, do you have something you want to talk about? Or I can dig up the phone book and read from it so you can hear my buttery smooth voice.”

“ _Oh my **god** , Victor stoooop_,” Yuuri whines and Victor can practically hear the skater blushing over the phone.

“I can read off my grocery list in Russian for you. Would you like that?” Victor continues to tease.

“ _No! I **do** have something to ask you!_” Yuuri blurts and Victor hums.

“Then ask away.”

There’s some shuffling on Yuuri’s end, then the soft squeak of a mattress. He must be in his bedroom. Victor wonders what Yuuri’s bedroom back home looks like; he hasn’t been that far in Yuuri and Phichit’s apartment to see how they decorated their bedrooms.

“ _Um. . .are you. . .doing anything on New Year’s Eve?_ ”

“New Year’s Eve? No. I mean, I might just visit my mother and my little brother that evening and spend the night but. . .do you have something else in mind?”

“ _I. . .I was just wondering if you would want to. . .hang out. . .with me. . .us. . .together. . .and stuff. . ._ ” Yuuri audibly groans at how awkward he sounds.

“You want to spend your New Year’s Eve with me?” Victor asks to clarify and hears Yuuri sputter over the phone.

“ _I-I mean – I – Phichit is throwing a party and I just want you to come and you don’t **have** to come if you don’t want to – oh my god, my face is **really** hot right now –” _Yuuri hyperventilates.

“Yuuri, _Yuuri_. Take a deep breath,” Victor instructs. He waits till he hears Yuuri breathe in deep and exhales slowly. Victor smiles. “I’d love to be your date to Phichit’s party. Should I bring a dish?”

“ _With your cooking? I don’t think so_.”

Victor places a hand to his heart and gives an exaggerated howl. Makkachin looks up at his owner, wondering just what the hell is he making noise about _this_ time?

“You hurt me, Yuuri. I’m lying on my couch dying from your cruel words,” Victor says.

“ _You’re talking a lot for a dying man_ ,” Yuuri points out.

“I’m slipping away into the light as we speak,” Victor informs and Yuuri hums.

“ _Can I have Makkachin then?_ ”

Victor feigns a gasp. “Yuuri Katsuki, you’re not my friend because you’re after my adorable poodle, are you?” Victor questions and Yuuri laughs.

“ _That’s **one** reason._”

“What’s the other reason?”

“ _. . .I really like spending time with you_ ,” Yuuri admits, softer and genuine.

Oh.

Victor swallows and smiles. “I like spending time with you too,” Victor murmurs back. Yuuri sighs (relieved?) and hums.

“ _That’s. . .great._ ”

“Yeah, it’s. . .neat,” Victor says, not understanding ‘how to sentence’ at the moment. A few seconds later, it clicks.

_Neat?_

Victor facepalms.

“ _So, I’ll just. . .tell you what time to come the next time we meet. Everything’s still coming along fine for the exhibition, right?_ ” Yuuri asks

“Yeah, everything is coming along fine.”

“ _. . .That’s **neat**_ ,” Yuuri responds with a teasing edge. Victor doesn’t know whether to groan at the tables being turned or to embrace the challenge.

He goes for the challenge.

“Are you sassing me right now, Yuuri?” Victor asks coyly.

Yuuri answers with a laugh. “ _I don’t know, am I?_ ” he asks.

“I asked you first.”

“ _I asked you second_.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my sweet Yuuri?” Victor questions and Yuuri breaks out into a fit of giggles. Victor is sure he can listen to Yuuri laughing for the rest of the evening.

But, once Yuuri reins in his laughter, he makes a noise. “ _Oh, hold on_ ,” Yuuri quickly tells Victor.

Victor pauses, listening to what sounds like Yuuri having a conversation with someone that has just entered his bedroom. He must have put the phone face down into his bed, since he can barely hear a thing. He knows that the other voice is a woman from the tone, relaxed and mature, but can’t make out the words.

After a minute, Yuuri is back on the phone. “ _Sorry, I need to go. Some family friends are here and want to see me. But, um, I’ll see you soon, okay? At the ice rink._ ”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you later,” Victor says and Yuuri hums.

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

“ _Oh my god, we’re doing it over the phone now_ ,” Yuuri says, astonished and Victor laughs.

“I’ll hang up first, okay?”

“ _Okay. . .goodnight._ ”

“Goodnight.”

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

“ _Victor!_ ”

“Ahahahah, okay for real. I’m going to hang up. Promise. Goodnight, Yuuri. Sleep tight.”

“ _Goodnight, Victor_.”

Victor ends the call.

He puts his phone on the coffee table and looks upwards towards the ceiling with the biggest smile on his lips. Makkachin squirms upwards on Victor’s chest and Victor looks down, gently rubbing Makkachin’s head.

“ _See, things are looking up!_ ” ‘Makkachin’ cheers and Victor nods his head.

“Yes, they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'dID YOU ALL SEE EPISODE 5?!?!' i scream as if you haven't
> 
> how the show is pacing itself i have absolutely no freaking clue when JJ and christophe are going to show up. i might rewrite the scene christophe showed up in here but it's so bland and he only says like ONE LINE so how badly can the characterization be ughghgu we're probably not going to see them till either the rostelecom cup or the grand prix final since we're getting phichit and guang hong in the cup of china IDK IM JUST UPSET WHY COULDNT YUURI GO TO SKATE CANADA OR SOMETHING THAT GUARANTEES I'LL SEE ONE OF THEM OK
> 
> i'll see what happens after the cup of china (i'm guessing that'll take two episodes since the next episode is just the short program part) to see the roster for rostelecom. if they STILL don't make a freaking cameo or something i have some SERIOUS editing to do. i already made this fic longer by two chapters because i couldn't end this part on the scene i wanted to cause i don't have enough characters to work with OTL
> 
> bUT ANYWAYS YEAH THANKS FOR ALL THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS AND BOOKMARKS AND EVERYTHING THANK YOU SO MUCH :D


	3. flashback, warm nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t like you,” Yuri begins and Yuuri pales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: wHERE IS CHRISTOPHE! I WANT CHRISTOPHE!
> 
> christophe: *appears*
> 
> me: nEVERMIND
> 
> chapter title from Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time"

“These mittens are fucking ugly,” Yuri says, staring down at the two lumps of blue fabric in his hands.

Victor smiles, head tilting to the side.

“You’re always so _cute_ , Yura,” Victor says through clenched teeth, because he _knows_ these mittens are ugly. The left mitten’s thumb is far too low for a normal human, adult male’s hand and the right mitten is _really_ stretched out. It looks like Victor knitted these things with his feet in the dark. But Victor used up all his yarn and it took him _so_ long to knit these damn things. If he waits until he actually gets proficient in knitting to gift Yuuri mittens, it’ll probably be for Christmas two years from now.

Mila takes the mittens off Yuri’s hands and looks at them herself.

“Is this some sort of secret test of character?” Mila asks, looking to Victor with all seriousness in her eyes. “Like, if you give these to him and he hates them, then that means he’s secretly an asshole. But if he loves them, then he’s the one and you should marry him. That sort of thing?”

“He almost set him on _fire_ and he’s still hanging around him. He’s like a cockroach or something. Like, what will it take to scare him off?” Yuri asks abashedly.

“You watch too many movies, Mila. And will you stop bringing up the fire story? Mom has already retold it to _everyone_ ,” Victor scolds and takes the mittens from Mila’s hands to place back into his bag hanging on his shoulder.

“I’m planning on surprising him with them before we leave each other at the streetlight. It’ll be a perfectly normal and mature atmosphere and I just give him the mittens as a gesture of gratitude for all that he’s done for me these past months. Like an early Christmas present,” Victor explains and Mila nods her head.

“And then, you take him in your arms and tell him that you fell in love with him at first sight. And you make out with the city lights glowing behind you,” Mila says, holding herself and making uncomfortably loud kissing noises.

“But then he slaps you because you’re being creepy, and he abandons you and runs away to a third world country where you’ll never see him again,” Yuri adds on, a dark smirk on his lips. Victor pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m getting adult friends to talk about this,” Victor announces and Yuri smiles.

“Good, because I’m tired about hearing about all this lovey-dovey shit with you. Hurry up and bone him already so you can quench your thirst,” Yuri says matter-of-factly. Believing he has said he piece – and also not wanting to hear any more of this conversation – Yuri grabs a box of lids and takes it to the backroom.

Mila turns to Victor and hums. “I think he’ll like them. I mean. . .it’s almost Christmas so you can give it to him as a gag present if things start going south at least?” she says with a shrug and Victor shakes his head.

“Yuri’s right. If he’s still willing to see me after I’ve almost set the kitchen on fire with us in it, I doubt a pair of ugly mittens will be enough for a dealbreaker,” Victor says with a smile.

So why then does he feel. . .worried about Yuuri’s reaction?

To Victor, Yuuri feels like that kind of person that will take an awful gift to be polite, but will be terrible at hiding their true feelings. Victor _definitely_ doesn’t want that reaction. But he doesn’t know what else to give Yuuri in such short notice. Christmas is next week and the stores are bled dry from last minute shoppers. He _still_ doesn’t know what would be a nice Christmas gift for Yuuri that isn’t something generic and predictable. . .are _mittens_ generic and predictable???

“Victor, I can hear you thinking from over here,” Mila says and Victor jumps in his spot, scratching the back of his neck.

“Ahh, I just. . .It’ll be alright,” Victor says moreso to himself than to Mila. He throws on a smile as if it will just make all his worries disappear in an instant, and tilts his head towards the door. “I’m going to get out of here and get some work done. Wish me luck tonight,” Victor breathes in and Mila gives him a thumbs up.

“Remember to be yourself! You didn’t scare him away yet, so just don’t be weird!” Mila shouts out as Victor begins to step out the door. He nods his head and smiles, raising his thumb up before he exits the shop. Yeah, he didn’t scare Yuuri away. 

Not yet.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri has _amazing_ control with his hips as he saunters and rocks on the blades of his skates to the energetic blares of the horns, the thudding piano and bass beat and the jazzy tune of the electric guitar tying everything all together. Victor leans up against the boards and watches him move, pencil in his hand stilled on the paper as he listens to the music alongside.

It’s not like the modern music Yuuri has been skating to previously, and it’s not like the classical, grandiose music Victor usually associates with figure skating. It’s relaxing, yet has a discernible beat to move to. The female singer’s voice is bright and rings in Victor’s ears. He can’t understand the words since she sings in Japanese, but it’s still beautiful to listen to and suits Yuuri well.

Yuuri leans backwards into a cantilever, the fingertips of his right hand gliding against the ice while his left hand goes upwards and his fingers curl to beckon those watching – i.e. Victor - to come close and marvel. He straightens his body and swings his free leg forwards and throws it back to go into a flying camel spin. He pulls his right leg inwards and transitions into a Y spin by the hold of his ankle, speed increasing as he drops his free leg down and extends his arms upwards towards the ceiling.

Yuuri then exits the spin and rocks from side to side in a little dance as an electric beat easily transitions into the melody of the song, while hits from a top hat cymbal and a horn accent along with the vocals of the background singers. His cheeks are red from exertion, but the big smile on his face as he dances and moves across the ice lets Victor know that he’s enjoying himself.

The lead female vocalist enters back into the song as the electric sound fades away with a trill of the piano, and Yuuri easily glides backwards on the outside edge of his skates. He takes off into a triple toe-half loop-double toe combination to the accented beats and has a shaky landing, but it doesn’t defer his momentum in the slightest. Yuuri twists his hips in a way that has Victor _reeling_ , before he goes into a layback ina bauer as the singer sustains a note and it’s _perfect_. Victor immediately gives his applause and whistles, momentarily forgetting about trying to capture Yuuri’s performance on paper and just _indulging_ in the now.

Yuuri hydroblades across the ice when the chorus comes in and straightens to do a half turn then twizzle. He glides forward and rounds the front of the rink, gliding past Victor as he raises his right leg upwards and leans for an arabesque spiral. With Yuuri’s arms thrown back like that, it reminds Victor of a graceful swan spreading their wings and he _really_ should draw it but he just can’t take his eyes away from Yuuri for a single _second_.

The chorus repeats and Yuuri immediately goes into a flying sit spin, then changes his foot and straightens for a layback spin and transitions into a Biellmann spin as the singing crescendos. Yuuri drops his leg and exits out of the spin as the song goes into its instrumental outro. Victor expects the performance to end here, but Yuuri continues to skate and dance on the ice with a throw of his arms and a kick of his foot.

Yuuri goes into one more step sequence, but this one feels different to Victor than the other two. The first sequence felt like it was outlining the initial setting for the story, relaxing and slow and getting Victor into the mood as he watches Yuuri glide across the ice. He feels like he’s traveled into a smoky cabaret bar and he has a table directly in front of the stage as the dancer saunters out onto the stage to dance just for him.

As Yuuri segued into the second step sequence, Victor sees the dancer flirt with teasing slides of their hands over their body. Their hands move up and down their sides to the beat of the music and the vocals and Victor’s eyes follow with his own hands itching to rake all over their form. But every time they get close, they cruelly step away out of Victor’s reach with timid eyes, vulnerable and innocent underneath their yearning for their viewer. It just makes Victor want them _more_.

And now this third sequence that Yuuri dances and skates to isn’t like the story in the cabaret club. It’s as if now Victor is in a place where the dancer is closer in his reach, but is nothing but a vision in his dreams instead of tangible flesh. They beckon for him to join them with long stretches of their arms and sharp thrusts of their body. As the horns get louder and the beat gets stronger, the intent of the dancer feels like it bores deeper and deeper into Victor’s mind with each sexually charged movement as they give into their desires about the man they danced for. _Dance with me. Touch me. Take me. Before it’s too late._

And Victor _desperately_ wants to. He wants to _so bad_.

With the loud blare of the trumpets intermixed with the guitar, Yuuri slides forward onto his knees and arches his back, one hand up towards the ceiling while his other arm is thrown back and the song ends. The sound echoes high into the rafters as Victor watches the rise and fall of Yuuri’s chest. He waits for Yuuri to gather his breath, then watches as Yuuri rises up to sit on his knees and push his sweating bangs out of his reddened face.

Yuuri’s eyes meet Victor’s, beautiful and alluring and _pure_ , and he gives a shy smile.

“So,” he huffs, “how was that?”

Victor immediately drops his face into his hands, because a million feelings rush to the front of his brain that deal with how _sexy_ Yuuri is. Victor just wants to kiss him and run his tongue against the nape of Yuuri’s neck, and kiss between his shoulder blades down his spine. He _wants_ Yuuri, and it’s _so hard_ to attach these urges to words that describe how much he loves that performance and how _badly_ Victor has it for him.

He feels an intense surge of want and lust and desire hit him like a ton of bricks whenever he looks deep into Yuuri’s eyes, but there’s also the desire to just hold Yuuri against his body and gently run his fingers through his hair. He wants to gently touch every little inch of Yuuri’s skin with his fingertips and his lips, and feel Yuuri’s breath against his mouth when he kisses him slow and languid.

As he feels his face burning with heat and desire, he feels a gentle prod in the whorl of his silvery hair. It only lasts for a few seconds, but moment stretches longer as Victor pulls his hands away slowly to look at Yuuri’s confused face, his pointer finger extended and stiff in the air. Yuuri’s face flushes even redder, like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He tries to stammer out an excuse and apology for touching Victor’s hair, but his lungs are still trying to fill with air so it comes out as a rushed string of vowels and consonants with no ties to each other.

Victor’s mind _screams_ to grab Yuuri into his arms and kiss him till he can’t even make a sound.

Instead, he sinks to the ground and brings his sketchbook with him, forehead against the boards as he lets out a groan that exhales a wish for Victor to just be struck by lightning and put out of this wonderful misery.

“V-Victor! I-I’m sorry! I just – my hand moved on its own and–” Yuuri begins to stammer and Victor breathes out a small chuckle.

“You shouldn’t make fun of me going bald, Yuuri,” Victor whines. It’s not the real reason why he currently feels dead and alive inside at the same time, but it’ll suffice.

“You’re not going bald! I’m sorry! Your hair looks really pretty and it looks really soft and – I’m sorry! Just get up _please!_ ” Yuuri begs, hands on Victor’s knuckles gripping the top of the boards. It makes everything worse and also _better_. Yuuri wanted to touch Victor’s hair as badly as Victor wants to touch Yuuri’s? He doesn’t know whether to feel ecstatic or upset because _dammit_ , he wants to cross the line and vomit his heart out of his mouth.

But in the back of his mind is this crippling fear that what he feels is just _too intense_. It's easy to pass off a hug or a caress or mindless flirts as nothing but teasing to just rile Yuuri up (because Victor admits that he _does_ like to rile Yuuri up every once in a while). It’s an entirely different thing to attach these feelings to every touch and look that he steals and wanting Yuuri to understand Victor’s admiration and desire. Especially since Victor himself doesn’t know how to just _express himself_ without worrying he’s just going to fuck things up between him and Yuuri by rushing headfirst into something that neither of them might be ready for.

Victor is in this weird limbo of finding comfort and frustration in just being Yuuri’s friend, and desiring yet fearing the idea of becoming more than friends.

It _sucks_.

Victor stays on the ground for a couple of minutes, listening to Yuuri apologize over and over again with his hands still over Victor’s trembling knuckles. Eventually, he pulls himself back up to his feet and he locks eyes with Yuuri once more. He opens his arms out nice and wide with a moot expression, and pulls Yuuri in for a tight embrace. Yuuri’s arms are pinned at his sides and he lets out a surprised gasp as Victor mumbles into the neck of his sweat-soaked thermal “you were perfect”.

And he pulls away, because that’s all a coward like him _can_ say.

Yuuri nods his head with reddened cheeks and dusts off the ice from his blades, before he skates to the exit. He grabs his guards from the bench next to his duffle bag to place on the blades, before he walks over to Victor. Yuuri crouches down and picks up Victor’s fallen sketchbook, flipping to the open page Victor is on.

“. . .You didn’t finish it,” he points out and Victor looks at the drawing. He started halfway, but when he looked back up to see Yuuri’s expression, he got sucked in and didn’t want to escape. Victor takes the sketchbook from Yuuri and closes it, holding it to his side.

“I’m sorry. . .I couldn’t take my eyes off you for one second,” Victor explains and Yuuri looks down, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth. He. . .doesn’t look disappointed. . .he looks strangely happy for some reason.

“It’s alright-”

“You did a lot of new movements in that program though. I _should_ have a bunch of pages of you,” Victor says, feeling his ears growing hot. He can’t let this interfere with his work, especially since he still needs to put together Yuuri’s story for the exhibition and needs to use as much material as possible to work with.

Yuuri nods his head, eyes cast to the floor with a small smile on his lips. “It’s alright, I’m just happy that you loved it. I tried to think of a program that will grab your attention the most because I-” Yuuri pauses, then clamps his mouth shut. “Ahh. . .never mind.”

“What?” Victor asks and Yuuri shakes his head.

“It’s getting late, maybe we should call it a night,” Yuuri deflects and moves past Victor to sit on the bench and begin unlacing his skates. He pulls off his left and his right skate, tossing them in his duffle bag to grab his shoes and doesn’t even raise his head to Victor’s confused gaze.

“Yuuri, what were you going to say? Tell me.” Victor asks again, curiosity piqued.

“No, i-it’s nothing. It’s silly and dumb. I don’t want to talk about it,” Yuuri says, tone louder and voice trembling. He doesn’t even look up at Victor as he speaks; his shoulders are hunched up to his ears again. Victor pouts; he honestly thought they were past this. He takes a step forward and gets to his knees, placing his hands gently over Yuuri’s clumsily undoing the laces of his sneakers.

“Come on~” Victor purrs and whines, squeezing Yuuri’s hands a little bit too tight, “I’m curious to know what you were thinking of when you choreographed that. Were you thinking about someone in particular or-”

“I said _no!_ ” Yuuri snaps, and yanks his hands away from Victor’s hold.

It’s the first time, Victor realizes, that he’s actually seen this type of expression on Yuuri’s face. It’s a different kind of discomfort than what Victor occasionally deals with Yuuri, one that can be talked through and ends with quiet laughter shared between them. Yuuri is uncomfortable, but he’s also agitated and very much embarrassed. He’s caught up deep within his thoughts and Victor just _has_ to burst the bubble and let himself in as well, pushing and prodding past the line he’s been dancing around these past few months.

The silence between them is more than awkward, it’s stale and weighs heavy in Victor’s lungs. He tries to think of something to say to Yuuri to make light of the situation, a small tease or a little laugh, but none pop up in his mind that can shut out the repeating thought of ‘ _I fucked up_ ’. Yuuri seems to realize what he just said – or maybe Victor is allowing all of his confusion to show through his eyes and Yuuri sees it – and quickly rises to his feet, cheeks flushed pink.

“I’m sorry. I just – I – can you just give me a. . .” Yuuri holds his face in his hands and doesn’t finish his sentence. He takes off and runs to the locker rooms on the north side of the rink with only one shoe on, leaving Victor alone to stew in his own thoughts and think about what he just did.

Victor takes a seat on the bench Yuuri was previously sitting on, biting the inside of his cheek as he closes his eyes to think. It always feels like Victor is stepping through a minefield when it comes to dealing with Yuuri. He doesn’t know how much is too much, he doesn’t know how far he can push it without crossing the line. He doesn’t know how much he can indulge in his fantasies and the reality checks that come in the form of Yuuri running from him and closing himself off _always_ make Victor regret what he did and to _never_ let it happen again.

His feelings are growing past the threshold he’s trying to contain. He’s supposed to treat Yuuri as his muse and be professional, and he just spent the last couple of minutes lusting after him instead of actually producing _something_ of quality for the exhibition like he’s _supposed to_. The thought makes him feel gross, like he’s taking advantage of Yuuri’s willingness to pose for him. He’s gazing at him for far too long, like some dirty old man admiring a pretty young thing that he can’t touch but will keep paying money to see.

He’s been letting his mind wander lately every time they meet. He’s no longer seeing Yuuri in watercolors and pastels, he’s seeing him in flesh and blood that he wants to touch and know intimately with his tongue. He doesn’t think he’s losing inspiration; he still has dozens of ideas of artwork to create with Yuuri as the focus. But he’s losing the drive to keep putting on a smile and lug around a heavy bag of art supplies and forcing himself to only _watch_ Yuuri. Or rather, he’s losing the self-control.

Victor looks down at Yuuri’s left shoe, discarded underneath the bench when he fled from Victor’s eyes. Victor also glances over to his bag, the ugly mittens peeking out of the side pocket like they sense that if Victor can make things better (or make things worse), now is the most opportune time. Victor swallows and rises to his feet, taking Yuuri’s shoe and slings his art bag onto his shoulder.

Victor takes his time to walk over to the locker rooms, trying to run through different scenarios and possible outcomes on how to salvage the rest of their night. He can offer Yuuri’s shoes and the mittens as a gesture of good will and pretend that their previous conversation never happened and go back to the comfortable bubble of being friends.

He can offer Yuuri’s shoes and forget the mittens _and_ the conversation to just make sure he doesn’t make things even worse.

He can ask if maybe, just _maybe_ , Yuuri will be interested in seeing each other in a more intimate setting, but shuts that thought down as quickly as it enters into his head.

Victor stops in front of the door and places his ear to the door first, trying to see if he can hear anything inside. Obviously, he doesn’t, so he peeks through the small window. Yuuri is seated on a bench inside, his back turned towards the door. He looks absolutely pitiful, like a wilted flower that Victor accidentally stepped on.

It slightly irritates Victor that he still doesn’t understand just what he _said_ that made Yuuri put his guard up and shut himself away like this. He just wanted to know what inspired Yuuri to skate like that. . .and why did Yuuri seem happy that Victor _didn’t_ draw anything from such a beautiful program?

Victor gives a small knock to the door and sees Yuuri jump in his spot on the bench. He looks over his shoulder at Victor and nods his head, gesturing for Victor to come inside. He does, quietly closing the door behind him and approaches Yuuri. He stops when there’s about a foot length of space between them, looking at the way how Yuuri has his hands folded on his lap and twiddles his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” Victor apologizes and Yuuri shakes his head.

“I’m the one acting stupid,” Yuuri mumbles. “You don’t need to apologize-”

“You didn’t want to talk about it, but I kept pushing forward and made you uncomfortable. And that’s the last thing I _ever_ want to make you feel when we’re together, Yuuri,” Victor explains and Yuuri meets his gaze. His eyes aren’t angry and embarrassed anymore, they’re soft and regretful, as if Yuuri just wishes this entire _night_ didn’t happen. Victor’s so fucking confused.

Yuuri smiles. “I don’t feel uncomfortable when I’m with you, Victor. I _really_ like being around you and spending time with you. I just. . .I just don’t think I’ll be able to explain what feelings I had when I choreographed that program. It’s not something that I can easily give a name to, if that makes sense,” Yuuri explains and stands to his feet. “Maybe I should have performed it for you when I _did_ have my feelings about it all sorted out so I can better explain it. . .can you give me some time to just. . .think about it?”

Victor’s really confused, but he nods his head up and down and smiles back anyways. “Sure. I’ll be waiting to hear it,” Victor says and Yuuri’s cheeks grow rosy. He nods only once, eyes regaining that beautiful glimmer that makes Victor’s legs want to give out at the knees. Yuuri looks down and hums.

“You have my shoe,” he points out and Victor holds it up.

“Of course, Cinderella~” Victor sing-songs and Yuuri gives a dry laugh. He takes the shoe from Victor, then braces his hand against Victor’s shoulder to keep his balance as he tugs it on. Once he firmly steps into the shoe, he sighs and rocks his hands from side to side.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Yuuri asks and Victor nods his head. He follows Yuuri out of the locker room and they begin to walk back to where Yuuri’s duffle bag and music system awaits. Victor watches as Yuuri packs away the rest of his things as he slowly reaches into his art bag, fingers wrapping around the soft heap of blue yarn lying on top of his eraser bag. He’s hesitant and stiff; his throat suddenly becomes _very_ dry. Why is he nervous? He’s given gifts to lovers and friends in the past. It’s just another gift. It’s nothing to think so hard about.

It feels like he’s grabbing a heavy hand of cement instead of soft mittens as he begins to tug them out, running his tongue over the bottom of his lower lip.

“Yuuri,” he calls out and Yuuri turns, duffle bag on his shoulder and pulling out –

A pair of white gloves.

Victor immediately lets the mittens fall back into the dark abyss of his art bag.

“Hmm?” Yuuri asks, pulling on one glove and then the other. They fit his hands nice and snug, and they make his hands look so elegant and fashionable. They suit Yuuri _far more_ than the atrocities Victor was about to reveal.

“. . .You have new gloves,” Victor says, because he’s staring too long at Yuuri’s hands for it to be normal. He’s sure he’s hid his disappointment well enough behind his smile, since Yuuri smiles back and admires his hands.

“Phichit gave them to me as an early Christmas gift. They’re a lot better than those fingerless ones I’ve been wearing, huh?” Yuuri asks and Victor smiles. The _one_ thing that Phichit decides not to take a picture of. _Dammit_.

“Are they warm?” he asks and Yuuri blinks.

“Um, I guess?”

Should he do it? But Yuuri doesn’t really need them now and really, no way would he choose mittens that will fit a moose’s hooves over designer gloves. Well, at least he saved himself the embarrassment. It doesn’t make Victor feel any better, but he’s sure he can’t feel any worse.

Yuuri slips on his glasses and begins to walk to the lobby, glancing over his shoulder.

“Are you coming?” he asks and Victor closes his eyes, before he puts on an empty smile. 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

The walk to the stoplight is quieter than usual; the only sound coming from the both of them is the loud crunch of snow underneath their feet as they trudge through the sidewalk.

Victor sniffles, tugging his plaid scarf up over his mouth to keep his face somewhat warm. Yuuri’s wrapped up in a blue knit scarf - that would actually match the ugly mittens Victor knitted for him but _no_ , Victor’s not going to bring them up – and a blue knit hat with a little fuzzy ball at the top of his cranium. Victor feels his body heat when he brushes up against his arm as they walk, comforting and inviting and cozy like home.

When they walk around the corner of a drug store and are approximately three blocks away from the stoplight, Yuuri glances over at Victor.

“I can’t believe Christmas is next week. This year is going by so quickly,” Yuuri says and Victor hums, nose growing red from the coldness of the temperature. His breaths are coming out in puffs of vapor, fogging the air before his eyes.

“Do you have any plans?” Victor asks and Yuuri nods his head.

“Going to visit my parents again. You?”

“It’s actually my birthday, so my younger brother and his friend will most likely ambush me and take me out someplace to ‘recapture my youth’,” Victor muses. It’s really more like Mila and Victor dragging Yuri out for a night on the town where he eventually has to pay for everything and drive everyone back home. Mila’s been hinting that there’s a karaoke bar that’ll be open late on Christmas Eve that _might_ be fun, and Yuri has been threatening that if they go to that karaoke bar, he _might_ kill them both.

Yuuri’s eyes are big and wide with shock. “Your birthday is on Christmas Day?” he asks and Victor nods his head. Yuuri steps around in front of Victor’s path, hands in his pockets. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have celebrated tonight,” Yuuri says with a huff and Victor smiles.

“I don’t like being reminded that I’m old.”

“You’re _not_ old,” Yuuri says and Victor gives a sigh.

“You’re still a wide-eyed, twenty-three-year-old youth. You’ll understand soon-”

“I’m twenty-four now, actually,” Yuuri corrects. Victor blinks. _What?_

“Since when?” Victor questions.

“I don’t know, a couple of weeks ago? My birthday was on November 29th,” Yuuri explains.

There’s a little voice in the back of his mind, yelling ‘ _give him the mittens, this is the **perfect** opportunity, you can pass it off as a belated birthday gift, do it do it do it!’._

Victor shakes his head and looks at Yuuri with a raised eyebrow. “Well why didn’t you tell _me_ when your birthday was so we can celebrate it?” Victor asks and Yuuri shrugs, shaking some snow off the tip of his shoe.

“I don’t know. I guess I kind of just. . .forgot?” Yuuri says with a little laugh. “Usually, I just hang out with Phichit anyways. It’s no big deal.”

“Then how about we celebrate our birthdays together?” Victor suggests and steps closer. “Do you want to come over to my place Christmas evening? We can watch movies, drink some hot chocolate, dress Makkachin up in reindeer antlers-”

Yuuri feigns a gasp. “How did you know my weakness is adorable dogs wearing antlers?” Yuuri asks and Victor laughs. Yuuri laughs too, bright and jovial and mixing in with Victor’s to make one sound. “Well, it’s _very_ tempting, but I’m going to be with my family for the entire day up to the twenty-seventh, so I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“Christmas Eve then,” Victor quickly suggests, and Yuuri shakes his head.

“I’m going on a date,” he says, turning on his heel and continuing down the sidewalk.

After a few seconds, Yuuri realizes that Victor is still lodged in place, too dumbfounded to even move an inch. Yuuri walks back to Victor, cocking his head to the side. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Victor blinks, trying to process the statement over and over in his head. Yuuri’s going on a date. Yuuri is going on a date on Christmas Eve. Yuuri is spending time with someone in a romantic setting that _isn’t_ Victor on _Christmas Eve????????_

Victor pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, what?” Victor says, feeling something prickle in his brain.

“What is it?” Yuuri asks.

“You’re going on a _date?_ With who? Who are they? Where did you meet them? Where are you going?” Victor questions and gets up all Yuuri’s personal bubble.

“Victor, calm down,” Yuuri says, pressing his hands against Victor’s chest to give him some space. Yuuri adjusts his glasses. “It’s a guy and it’s a double date Phichit set up.”

_Dammit Phichit!_

“He’s interested in someone and just asked me to be a friend and tag along so things aren’t awkward,” Yuuri explains. “I’m not expecting anything to really come out of it, so if you’re concerned. . .”

“Me? I’m not concerned,” Victor says and Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not? What was with the twenty questions just a few seconds ago if you _weren’t_ concerned?” Yuuri asks and Victor flinches. He laughs and pulls Yuuri’s knit cap down over his forehead to temporarily distract Yuuri from Victor’s mild panic.

“I just want to know who has managed to finally catch my muse’s beautiful heart. But if you say nothing is going to come out of it, I suppose we still have to wait,” Victor says. Yuuri pulls his cap back up and huffs.

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll like him and maybe I’ll won’t. Phichit said he’s cute,” Yuuri brings up and Victor grinds his teeth. There’s something rising in the back of his throat and is leaving an extremely bitter and annoying taste in his mouth. Jealousy? Annoyance? General anger with himself for believing that Yuuri will somehow remain ‘off limits’ for every other person in the entire world while Victor got his shit together? Maybe a mixture of all three.

“Hm, well then,” Victor mumbles/grumbles, and continues to walk down the sidewalk at a faster pace. Yuuri chases after him, keeping in step as they slosh through the slick and snow.

“After all those questions about my love life when we first met, I tell you I’m going on a date with someone and you’re _mad_ ,” Yuuri points out, absolutely astonished.

“I’m not mad,” Victor lies. He’s not mad with Yuuri. He’s mad with himself. Yuuri is beautiful, and it’s only a matter of time before someone else sees what Victor sees in Yuuri and is free to act out on their desires compared to Victor. A lot can happen in the two months left before the exhibition. It didn’t take that long for Victor to become enamored with Yuuri; he just has that charm that makes you desire him bit by bit, and fall for him all at once.

“Yes you are,” Yuuri argues, running his pointer finger over his forehead. “Your voice is harder and you’re doing that thing with your eyebrows that you always do whenever you look at a bad drawing,” Yuuri says and Victor places a hand over his forehead.

“I’m _not_ mad, Yuuri,” Victor says, layering his words with a sweet and friendly manner while the bile churns in his stomach. Yuuri gives him a look, but doesn’t comment about Victor’s tone. They approach the stoplight corner in a few more minutes, Victor silently brooding and stewing over the fact that around this time next week, Yuuri will be on a date with some _cute guy_. Some cute, young guy while Victor ages another year closer to his thirties and another year closer to all of his hair falling out.

It hasn’t occurred to him until now just how out of the dating game he’s been; his last relationship ended a year ago and he hasn’t looked into dating anyone until he met Yuuri. Does Yuuri find older dates attractive, or is he more into a younger lover? How _cute_ is this guy anyways? Does Phichit have a selfie of him somewhere? He’s going to have to sift through his Instagram to get a clearer idea because Yuuri deserves only the _finest_.

Yuuri pauses at the stoplight and looks over his shoulder at Victor’s face. “I’ll call you later when I get home, okay?” Yuuri says and Victor raises his hand in a wave.

“Yeah. I guess we won’t be seeing each other until after Christmas,” Victor says and Yuuri nods his head.

“Yeah. . .so I guess this is goodnight for now,” Yuuri says and Victor hums. They settle into their normal quiet silence they share, more comfortable than it was at the rink.

“Goodnight, Yuuri. Merry Christmas,” Victor says and Yuuri bites his lower lip. Victor smiles and turns to walk on his separate path, but Yuuri calls out for him to stop. He turns and Yuuri is suddenly _right there_ , wrapping his arms around Victor and burying his face into Victor’s collarbone. His hands wind around Victor’s shoulders and Victor’s arms instinctively hold Yuuri by his waist.

“It’s just a date, I’m not marrying him,” Yuuri says and looks up at Victor through his eyelashes.

“I told you, I’m not angry about you going out on a date. You don’t belong to me, so it’s fine. I’m completely fine with you dating,” Victor says nonchalantly when he really feels like he’s going to blow a fuse. Yuuri hums, resting his chin just above Victor’s heart. He raises one finger and gently pokes the spot in between Victor’s eyebrows, smiling coyly.

“You just did it again,” Yuuri says and Victor raises his hands up to hold Yuuri’s face. It’s soft against his hands, warm too. He squeezes Yuuri’s cheeks until his lips pucker, sticking his tongue out at the skater.

“Santa’s going to leave a big lump of coal in your stocking,” Victor snaps and Yuuri laughs, feeling daring and grabbing hold of Victor’s face to pull at his reddened cheeks.

“Oh yeah? I bet you’re at the top of the naughty list,” Yuuri teases and Victor raises an eyebrow.

“Care to tell me my crimes?” Victor asks and Yuuri loosens his hold on Victor’s cheeks.

“Well,” Yuuri begins, looking up into Victor’s eyes. Victor waits for an answer, but nothing else comes from Yuuri’s lips. His hands are warm against Victor’s face, slightly trembling but Victor doesn’t know if it’s from the cold or if it’s from something else. Yuuri’s eyes sparkle from the city lights, hypnotically drawing Victor in closer and pulling Yuuri tighter against him. Victor drops his hands from Yuuri’s soft cheeks to hold Yuuri by his shoulders. His lips are quivering, like a word is on Yuuri’s tongue but it can’t escape Yuuri’s mouth.

Warm puffs of hot breath leave Victor’s lips and dissipate into the air, before he smiles.

“I wonder if he’ll see you like how I see you,” Victor whispers and Yuuri blinks, confused. Victor takes Yuuri’s right hand in his grasp and pushes up the cuff of Yuuri’s glove with his thumb, exposing pale skin. He kisses it once, chaste and quick and watches it immediately bloom with color and life. He looks to Yuuri, who is tinting just as pink.

“Yeah, that expression. That beauty of yours that inspires me so much,” Victor breathes into Yuuri’s open palm. Yuuri’s lips pull shut and his eyes widen in surprise as Victor gives a little smile and cocks his head to the side.

“But so you know, I’m not going to let anyone hog my muse, no matter how _cute_ they may be,” Victor says with a little smile. The tone comes off a little bit scathing, but he _means it_. 

He pulls Yuuri’s hands away from his face and squeezes them in his grasp. “Have a Merry Christmas, Yuuri,” Victor says again. Yuuri is still staring, like he’s still trying to understand what just happened in the last few minutes. The expression makes Victor feel a strange satisfaction tickle in his chest as he turns on his heel. “Goodnight~” he purrs and strolls down the sidewalk to home, cars rushing by and leaving his footprints in the snow.

He hears Yuuri shout out, “Have a Merry Christmas!” and a smile fills his face and remains there the entire walk home.

 

* * *

 

At around three in the morning or so or so, Victor’s brain decides to remember that Yuuri is going on a date with a cute guy. 

Victor lies awake in bed until the sun rises.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing?”

Yuri tosses another knife into the drawer, not worrying about damaging them because Victor sucks at cooking and will never use these fancy knives anyways.

“Mama said you sounded depressed when she talked with you on the phone, and she’s worried something happened with your _boyfriend_ and you’ll chop off your ear like Picasso or whatever,” Yuri deadpans and throws some scissors into the drawer as well.

“Picasso didn’t – tell her everything’s fine and I’m _not_ going to do that,” Victor says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yuri looks over his shoulder at him.

“Did he finally dump you?” Yuri asks and Victor crosses his arms.

“We weren’t dating in the first place, so I can’t say he dumped me. Everything’s _fine_. He’s just. . .going on a date with some guy that’s probably a lot younger than me tomorrow night. But it’s fine. It’s completely fine. I’m not his boyfriend or anything, so it’s fine,” Victor repeats.

“You’re having a total mental breakdown right now, aren’t you?” Yuri asks, amusement in his voice at seeing his elder brother’s plight. Victor sighs, slumping into a dining chair.

“I’m still attractive even though I’m almost thirty, right?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’m not your stupid boyfriend,” Yuri says and opens the fridge to help himself to another soda.

“I’m _saying_ , if you were a young twenty-year old, would you find a guy older than you attractive?” Victor asks and runs a hand through his hair. Subconsciously, his fingers try to feel around for a spot beginning to thin out. Yuri kicks the fridge door closed, popping open his soda.

“If he doesn’t touch me, doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak to me, and only buys me things, then _maybe_ ,” Yuri lists and takes a swig. Victor looks at his younger brother, mildly horrified. He remembers when Yuri used to make snow angels and cry when he had one too many marshmallows in his hot chocolate. Where did those innocent days go?

“Why are you freaking out over this anyways? So what if the guy he’s dating is younger than you,” Yuri says and crashes on Victor’s couch. “I’d rather you just be an old fart than try to be like those creepy old guys that pretend they’re still twenty-one. And we already established that he still likes you after all the stupid shit you do around him. If he doesn’t like you because you’re _old_ , then he’s a bigger moron than I thought,” Yuri barks.

It’s crass and rude, but Victor is able to decipher the nice and reassuring message Yuri is saying underneath the layers of Yuri’s ‘shut the fuck up and grow some balls’ tone. He places a hand over his heart, deeply touched.

“You _do_ care,” Victor keens, getting up from his chair to throw himself over the back of the couch, his arms draping over Yuri’s shoulders. Yuri immediately begins to flail around, trying to shake Victor off as the older male’s forearms lock tight in an aggressively loving hug.

“I _don’t_ care! I just know you’re _really_ annoying when you’re all depressed and shit so just stop worrying about your stupid crush and _would you get off of me before I spill my drink?!_ ” Yuri roars, kicking his feet in the air and screaming when Victor presses a sloppy kiss on the crown of Yuri’s head. Makkachin begins to bounce around, looking for a window of opportunity to jump in and pounce on Yuri as well.

In a last ditch effort, Yuri reels his head forward and then back to headbutt Victor in the chin. It doesn’t hurt Victor as much as it hurts Yuri, since teen immediately cradles his head a few seconds afterwards. Victor laughs and ruffles Yuri’s hair, moving to his easel to grab his sketchbook and his phone resting on the edge. His cell phone immediately lights up with a notification as he raises it up. Victor taps it, Instagram opening up to another of Phichit’s posts.

 

**689 likes**

**Phichit+chu: @yuri-katsuki** is gonna look FIIIIIIINNE AF tomorrow nite! **#datenight #merrychristmas #clothesshopping #bff2therescue**

It’s a picture of Yuuri posing in front of a dressing booth, embarrassed but going along with it. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and a grey double-breasted jacket with a wool collar, jeans that hug his thighs and his hips in _all_ the right places, and a pair of nicely polished shoes.

“Damn you, Phichit,” Victor breathes.

He likes the photo anyways, because Yuuri _does_ look fine af.

“I wonder where they’re going to go,” Victor mumbles to himself. Yuri looks over his shoulder, eyebrow raised and filled with suspicion.

“What are you planning?” he questions and Victor waves his hand.

“Nothing~”

“I swear to God, if you spend tomorrow night complaining about this guy, I’m going to give you twenty-eight _extra_ punches,” Yuri threatens and Victor smiles, giving a shrug.

“I can take it. You don’t hit hard, Yura,” Victor coos and Yuri furrows his eyebrows.

“I’ll tell Mila to give you another twenty-eight punches too,” he adds.

Mila can bench press Yuri with her eyes closed. That _will_ hurt.

Victor sighs, taking a seat at his easel. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow night is just going to be you, me, Mila, and karaoke-”

“I said I didn’t want to go to karaoke!” Yuri yells and Victor juts out his lower lip.

“But I’m the birthday boy. You mean you don’t want to cheer your kind big brother that will do anything for you up by singing a couple songs? So he doesn’t think about the fact the guy he has feelings for is on a date with another man?” Victor whines and Yuri gets to his feet, putting his soda on Victor’s coffee table.

He walks over to stand in front of Victor, and then drives his fist into Victor’s right shoulder. There’s a little bit of a sting, but not much for Victor to reel in pain. Victor pretends it hurts anyways, for Yuri.

“You have another twenty coming if you don’t shut up _right now_ ,” Yuri grits out and Victor huffs.

“Fine~” Victor says, tone reassuring. Yuri huffs, then stomps away to flop down on Victor’s couch. Makkachin jumps onto the couch and sits on Yuri’s lap, like he is Yuri’s small cat and not a gigantic poodle. Yuri yells at Makkachin to get off, but the dog just turns around the other way and gets comfortable on Yuri’s stretched out legs. Yuri curses under his breath, glares at Makkachin, then absently begins to rub Makkachin’s back and goes back to his soda.

Victor looks back at his phone screen and at the picture of Yuuri. In less than twenty-four hours, someone will have the pleasure of seeing Yuuri dressed like that just for them. He’ll most likely have his hair slicked back and leave the glasses off, and smile that cute smile of his that makes his cheeks all rosy as he tries to carry a conversation. 

Victor brings his phone to his forehead. He exhales deeply and he mentally screams.

 

* * *

 

Victor feels like it shouldn’t be a surprise that the mall is ridiculously overcrowded with last minute shoppers getting presents for their love ones for Christmas. However, he’s slightly more irritated with all the couples walking around arm in arm and snuggling up to each other. Don’t they have somewhere else to be other than reminding Victor that Yuuri is with some guy tonight on a little romantic night out? How inconsiderate.

“They said there’s a really good hot chocolate cart giving discounts to people in ugly Christmas sweaters,” Mila says, eyes on her phone’s screen as she scrolls through the Facebook posts on her home feed.

She’s wearing a heavy lime green sweater, the upper half of a plush reindeer sticking out of her stomach while the lower half sticks out of her lower back. If you squeeze the nose, it lights up. Victor has no idea where she found that thing, nor does he understand his subtle desire to own one just like it.

“This better be some good hot chocolate,” Yuri grumbles. He’s going to remain adamant about staying in his parka until they get to the cart before he decides to show off his crimson red sweater with ‘ **Merry F*cking Christmas** ’ embroidered across his chest like a superhero. Victor bought him that sweater last year; he’s rather happy that Yuri didn’t burn it in a fit of rage like he threatened to do the moment it got in his hands.

“It’s good. I remember Yuuri telling me about a hot chocolate cart-” Yuri turns and socks Victor in the gut. Since it catches him off guard, it _does_ hurt and he needs a few seconds to recover from the shock.

“I said stop talking about him! This is the fifth time you brought him up!” Yuri yells and turns on the heels of his boots. Victor rubs his stomach and sighs, before he continues to follow the teenagers through the busy mall. He doesn’t _think_ he’s talking about Yuuri that much. It has to have been like. . .an _hour_ since he last brought up the skater (they were walking through the park and Victor wondered aloud if they are at the ice rink. Yuri threw a snowball at his face).

Once they get into the heart of the mall and to the centerpiece of a gigantic Christmas tree, Victor sees a long line of people wearing ugly Christmas sweaters wrapping around the base of the tree and only getting longer. Mila groans.

“We should have come earlier~” she whines and Yuri clicks his tongue.

“So let’s just forget about it and go somewhere else,” he spits and Mila juts her lower lip out.

“I’m really feeling hot chocolate right now though,” she sighs and looks at Victor. “What’s your verdict, Birthday Boy?”

Victor shrugs. “I don’t mind waiting. It might go by fast,” Victor suggests and Mila grins. She does a fist pump and grabs Yuri’s wrist, dragging the younger boy over to the line while Victor follows behind and glances around at all of the shoppers.

The mall is closing pretty late for Christmas Eve. They’ll probably be heading out after the hot chocolate and wander around the outdoor shops for a bit until they surprise Yuri and go to karaoke to end the night. He hasn’t checked Phichit’s or Yuuri’s Instagram feeds the entire night, in order to keep his sanity in check and the comments about Yuuri from skyrocketing past Yuri and Mila’s thresholds of patience.

He glances up at the Christmas tree, at all of the beautiful gold and white ornaments adorning it and the silver tinsel wrapping around it. It sparkles in the light, dreamy and full of wonder. As his gaze goes towards the base, he pauses as he glances past the large fake presents decorating the bottom.

He sees Phichit, walking with his arm around a guy’s shoulders and laughing at some joke. And a few steps behind the pair is Yuuri walking side by side with a guy a few inches taller than him with messy black hair. They’re not engaging in any sort of physical contact that Victor can see from his spot and Yuuri is facing forward, not talking. The guy – he’s not _that_ cute – isn’t making any effort to talk to Yuuri either.

“Hey! Victor!” Yuri’s voice shouts and Victor looks over at his brother, both he and Mila waiting for Victor to join them. Victor makes eye contact with them, then looks over at the group date pausing in front of a bookstore.

He looks back at Yuri and Mila, then Yuuri and the guy.

Yuri and Mila; Yuuri and the guy that casually gestures to the bookstore and is looking at Yuuri to ask if he wants to enter.

Yuri and Mila; Yuuri who is shyly nodding his head ‘yes’ and walks in with his date directly behind.

Yuri and Mila-

“Will you hurry the _fuck up?!_ ” Yuri screams. A mother in front of them gives them a dirty look over her shoulder as she covers her children’s ears. Knowing Yuri, he doesn’t give a shit.

Victor approaches his brother and Mila, keeping his eyes on Yuuri as just he and his date enter the bookstore as he digs into his coat pocket to grab his wallet.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Victor says and pushes his wallet in Mila’s hands without even looking. “Just get me a sugar cookie or something. I’ll be right back,” Victor says in a rush, then briskly walks away from the two and ignores Yuri’s screaming at him that the bathroom is in the _other_ direction.

Victor strides over with a very relaxing face and enters the store, not getting noticed by Phichit as the Thai man becomes engrossed with playing around with his date’s scarf. He immediately begins to walk through the sections, head whirring from side to side as he tries to find Yuuri without being spotted.

Victor has yet to think of an explanation on why he’s in this bookstore if Yuuri asks, or what Victor is going to even say, or what is he going to do if Yuuri’s date is still hanging around, but Victor decides he’s going to just wing it. It’s not like things are going to go _that_ bad.

. . . _Probably._

He stops in the magazine and news section and immediately ducks behind a bookshelf. The blind date is currently sifting through a scientific theory magazine, expression dispassionate and moot. Yuuri isn’t anywhere near him, however. Victor throws a mental ‘you’re not _that_ good-looking’ in the form of a steely glare his way - to which the date does not notice - and continues on his search.

Victor strolls by the art sections and pauses. Hmm, he _does_ want a book on creating unique palettes. It’ll be nice to have two corresponding paintings to the ‘pizza’ painting, like a breakfast and a lunch included and all flowing together. He rounds the side of a bookshelf and halts as he sees Yuuri place an art book back on the shelf and moves onto another one. He hasn’t noticed Victor yet, his back partially turned towards Victor’s eyes.

Victor’s gaze moves downwards – those pants are _perfect_ on him. Bless you, Phichit – and shoots back up as he moves onto another book. Victor looks over his shoulder in the direction where he seen the date last, then back at Yuuri. He also notes that there’s another exit that leads to the outside a couple of feet away. He needs to move quickly.

Victor strolls over, eyes looking over the books on the top shelf. As Yuuri becomes engrossed with the book he’s skimming through and has yet to notice Victor, Victor reaches up and casually knocks a book off the shelf and onto the floor by Yuuri’s feet.

Yuuri pauses and he immediately turns to go down and pick the book up to be polite, while Victor goes down to the ground immediately to grab the book himself. Victor’s hand gently brushes against the back of Yuuri’s, the skater raising his head to meet Victor’s smiling eyes.

“V-Victor?!” Yuuri stammers and Victor smiles.

“Yuuri! What a coincidence finding you here!” Victor chirps.

Both stand to their feet, Yuuri holding both books in his grasp. “What brings you here to the art section? Are you trying to become a new up and coming artist?” Victor asks and rubs his chin, teasing smile on his lips. Yuuri hugs the books to his chest.

“I was going to ask you the exact same thing,” Yuuri says and cocks his head to the side. “I thought you said you were going to hang out with your little brother and your friend.”

Victor handwaves the question away. “Ah, they’re getting hot chocolate right now. I just wanted to take a look in here for a particular book,” Victor explains and Yuuri looks down at the book Victor knocked over in his arms.

“. . .You wanted ’The Art of Beautiful Orgasms’?” Yuuri asks, reading aloud the title on the cover and Victor freezes. He stares at Yuuri, then at the book in his hands, then curses himself for not paying attention to what book to knock over in order to engage flirting with Yuuri. He begins to reach for it, smile beginning to twitch on his face. 

“Ah, well, you know, for a friend. He’s into that sort of thing. Christmas surprise,” Victor says and Yuuri hums, letting Victor take the book from him. Victor looks down at the cover, eyebrows pulled in tight as he reads the big gold words.

 

‘ _How to Make Fun Pop-Up Books!’_

 

Victor blinks.

He looks back up at Yuuri, who’s rocking from side to side with a little smile on his lips.

“. . .Just kidding,” he says after their usual prolonged gaze that lasts two to five minutes. Victor drops the book to his side, letting out a _huge_ sigh before he shakes his head and smirks.

“You little tease,” Victor shudders out and Yuuri shakes his head.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are _too_.”

“Am I enough of a tease for you to tell me why you’re _really_ in here?” Yuuri asks and Victor stands up, leaning against the bookshelf.

“No, because I too, am a tease,” he says, running a hand through his hair and giving a wink.

“ _Victor_.”

“How’s your date going?” Victor asks suddenly. He might as well get to the point before the guy shows up looking for Yuuri and steals him away. Yuuri pauses, then steps forward with an eyebrow raised.

“Have you been following me? I thought you told me you _weren’t_ jealous,” Yuuri questions and Victor ‘pffts’.

“ _No_ , that would be weird. I’m not jealous, I was just asking as a curious artist wanting to know how his beautiful muse is doing on their date,” Victor drawls. He reaches up and pushes a loose strand behind Yuuri’s hair, already thirsting for more physical contact.

Yuuri’s eyes wander as he thinks of a response.

“. . .It’s okay. . .he’s nice,” Yuuri answers after a minute or so.

“. . .But how do you _really_ feel about him?” Victor asks and Yuuri sighs.

“He’s kind of boring,” Yuuri confides. “He talks about his bottle cap collection a lot, he chews with his mouth open, and I think he hates figure skating because he told all of us how a figure skater stole his last boyfriend away from him over dinner. He also keeps asking me if I want to come down to his ‘basement’ and I have _no idea_ what he’s planning on doing to me if I go,” Yuuri says with a shudder and Victor hums.

“A basement, huh? That could be kinky. Like a little sex dungeon or something,” Victor muses and Yuuri groans, raising his book to hide his face.

“ _Stoooop._ His tragic backstory was already super awkward to listen to; I don’t want to think about him having a _sex dungeon_ ,” Yuuri whines and Victor laughs. Yuuri sighs and moves to stand next to Victor, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “I couldn’t even eat dinner with him staring me down across the table like I’m a piece of meat,” he murmurs.

“Well, you _are_ pretty sexy,” Victor purrs, sneaking a peak at Yuuri’s legs clad in those sinfully skin tight jeans. Yuuri flushes red, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“It’s just for tonight. I’ll go back to being my plain self tomorrow,” Yuuri mumbles and Victor scoffs.

“You’re beautiful _all the time_ , Yuuri,” Victor says, never growing tired of singing praises about his muse, and leans some of his weight onto him. “Hey, let’s get out of here, yeah? There’s a food cart in an outdoor shopping center nearby that sells pirozhki and it’s _delicious_ ,” Victor says into Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri leans away, looking at Victor with surprised eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I can’t just _abandon_ my date and Phichit! And what about your brother and-”

“It won’t take long. We’ll be out and back before they even know it~” Victor hums, snaking an arm around Yuuri’s back. His thumb draws figure eights into Yuuri’s left shoulder, lazy and familiar. Yuuri pulls his lower lip in between his teeth, eyes flittering downwards.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt his feelings or anything-”

“You said he’s boring and acting pretty creepy, right?” Victor asks and Yuuri huffs.

“I didn’t say he was _creepy_ , just. . .I don’t know,” Yuuri sighs. “He _is_ pretty cute until he opens his mouth,” he murmurs, torn with his decision.

“He’s not _that_ cute,” Victor points out, gently straightening out Yuuri’s collar. Yuuri suddenly pulls away from him, pointing an accusing finger.

“You _have_ been following me!” Yuuri says in astonishment and Victor quickly raises his hands.

“No, no~ the guy just _sounds_ unattractive. _That’s_ what I mean,” Victor says with a laugh. He glances over his shoulder and clicks his tongue. Yuuri’s date is now currently wandering closer to their spot and is standing in the cooking section. He has their back to them; if they run, they can sneak out the other exit.

Victor turns back to Yuuri. “Come on, just _one_ pirozhok. It’ll be really quick. It can be your Christmas gift to me,” Victor says and raises his hand over his heart, “I swear I’ll return you safe and sound.”

Yuuri hugs his book tight to his chest and groans. “It’s going to be _so_ bad,” Yuuri says with a shake of his head and Victor steps in close, taking the book from Yuuri’s hands to place on the shelf. He then hesitates, giving a glance up into Yuuri’s eyes and holds his gaze for a few seconds, before he gently reaches down and takes hold of Yuuri’s gloved hands.

“If we’re going to be on the naughty list, it might as well be for something fun right?” Victor whispers, rubbing little circles into the back of Yuuri’s right hand.

One minute passes and Yuuri turns his hands in Victor’s grasp so their fingers intertwine and lock tightly. He shoots up onto his tip-toes and taps his forehead against Victor’s, looking deeply into Victor’s eyes that have _surely_ dilated from the surprise of this sudden closeness.

“If Phichit kills me for running off with you, I’m taking you down with me,” Yuuri says, breath warm over Victor’s mouth and _oh so close_. He leans back onto his heels, hands still tightly interlocked, and waits for Victor’s response. Victor feels Yuuri’s entire body tremble through his grip in his hands, though he doesn’t know if it’s from excitement or nerves. Victor hopes it’s excitement, because he feels the same trembles in his core itching to manifest.

Victor smirks. “Can’t think of a better reason to die tonight then,” he says and Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek, not sure if he should laugh or scoff.

Victor leads him by the hand out of the section and into the main pathway. He puts an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and glances behind him as they walk, mapping out the detractors in his plan.

Phichit and his date have entered the store, possibly seeing if Yuuri and his date are done with their shopping.

Yuuri’s date is gone from the cooking session and Victor doesn’t have a visual on him, which has him a bit unsettled.

Mila and Yuri. . .well, they’ll be alright.

“How good is this pirozhki?” Yuuri pipes and Victor rubs his hand over Yuuri’s shoulder as they hook a sharp right through the hobbies collection. The bookshelves obscure them from wandering eyes and they are only just a few more feet from the doors. Victor can feel the cold night air ghosting over his face in a welcome victory as they draw near.

“Delicious. Best in town. Course, my mother makes _better_ but this is a close second,” Victor sells. Yuuri licks his lips, face growing warm as he imagines it.

“I can buy-”

“No, I’ll buy,” Victor interrupts and Yuuri furrows his eyebrows.

“You can’t pay for me _all_ the time. Let me buy stuff for you too,” Yuuri demands and Victor smiles. He boops Yuuri’s nose and sticks out his tongue.

“What if I _want_ to spoil my muse? Besides, if you use the money that I pay you with, then it technically _is_ me still paying for you,” Victor explains and Yuuri rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a smile as he looks up at Victor.

“You make absolutely _no_ sense,” Yuuri laughs and Victor smiles, eyes drowning in Yuuri’s soft gaze.

“It’s one of my endearing charms. All artists have them, you know,” Victor says as they go left to exit out the section through the collectables area and brushes up against someone with a rather large book that falls straight to the ground. Victor throws a look over his shoulder, still walking with Yuuri in tow. “Ah, sorry! We’re in a little bit of a-”

Oh _shit_.

Victor pulls his coat open and yanks Yuuri into his chest, closing his coat back up with Yuuri still inside. Yuuri’s date is now looking at Victor with an annoyed expression, his book on bottle caps – of course, Victor should have been wary about going through the ‘collection’ area – splayed out on the floor between the two.

Yuuri is squirming around in his coat, trying to get some air and clawing at Victor’s chest. Victor has a smile tight on his lips and wraps his arms around where Yuuri’s waist is, holding him in.

“Anyways, we got someplace to be so sorry!” Victor says, extremely loud for some reason, and begins to slowly walk backwards around the bookshelf and guide Yuuri with him. Yuuri’s date stares at the two of them, having no idea what the fuck is even happening. His eyes go down, down and he stills, before he looks back up at Victor’s face.

“Who are you and what are you doing with my date?” he asks. He has an annoying, nasally voice; Victor cringes from the sound, but immediately laughs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Have a Merry Christmas!” he says and begins to pull Yuuri quickly along. Yuuri blindly stumbles over his and Victor’s feet, clumsily bumping into a display for a children’s book series. More eyes are looking in their direction; if Phichit catches them, then the night will be good as done.

Yuuri’s date steps forward, following their movements with his eyes on Yuuri’s squirming form beneath Victor’s heavy coat.

“I _know_ his body,” he says when his eyes are fixated on Yuuri’s ass in particular. Yuuri instantly pauses, as if he can feel through the coat that he’s being leered at by his creepy blind date. Immediately afterwards, his hands shoot down and out to cover his rear end.

‘Creepy Blind Date’ raises his eyebrows in shock. “It _is_ you! What are you doing?! Who is-”

Okay, Plan B.

Victor releases his grip on Yuuri and lets him out of his coat, revealing him to his date’s horrified and heartbroken eyes. Yuuri immediately hunches his shoulders to his ears and covers his reddened face with his palms. His mouth is open, dying whine at the back of his throat that is so faint Victor can barely hear it. He doesn’t give Yuuri the time to ask ‘what’s going on?’ or ‘what are you doing?’ or ‘are you _insane?_ ’; his arms wind back around Yuuri’s waist and he hoists the skater off the ground.

Yuuri’s arms wrap around Victor’s neck, too startled and just _frazzled_ to even say anything, and only looks at Victor with big, beautiful and _fucking confused_ eyes.

“I’m improvising, it’s okay. This is fine,” Victor quickly tells Yuuri’s ‘?!?!?!?!’ expression, and he bolts to the door.

“Hey! _Hey!_ He’s kidnapping my date!” ‘Creepy Blind Date’ screeches and no doubt _everyone_ in the bookstore has their eyes on Victor’s back now as he runs out the door into the blistering cold night air.

He doesn’t look back, not even when he hears people shouts grow ever distant in his ears and drown under the beat of his speeding heart.

He keeps running as he feels Yuuri’s arms lock tight around him and Yuuri screams out an apology to _who knows_ , his date or the shoppers or maybe Phichit, before he buries his face into the crook of Victor’s neck and holds on.

When they’re three blocks from the mall and Victor doesn’t hear that nasally voice chasing after them, and he begins to feel a dull ache in his arms for carrying Yuuri in such a tense pose, he finally stops.

Yuuri slides down the front of Victor’s body, one foot on the ground before the other. Both are out of breath and faces are flushed, Victor hunching over with his hands braced against his knees. He’s going to be twenty-eight tomorrow, and he just ran out of a mall and down three blocks in the middle of a snowfall while carrying a grown man like a precious sack of potatoes.

_Who does that?!_

He takes a few more minutes to catch his breath, then straightens his back and exhales towards the night sky.

“That’s not what I planned,” Victor finally says, befuddled.

Yuuri turns to him, face impossibly scarlet and embarrassed. “Why did you do that?! You scared me!” Yuuri yells and drops his face into his hands.

“Oh my _God,_ that was so _humiliating_. I probably ruined Phichit’s date and everyone was _looking_ and now _I’m_ going to be a part of that guy’s tragic backstory he tells to his next date and-” Yuuri looks up from his hands and Victor sees that Yuuri is _really_ upset.

It’s just like the night at Ice Castle, where Victor pried too much too quickly and sent Yuuri running back into his protective shell. There’s a shimmer of unshed tears of frustration at the corners of his brown eyes, and he has his lower lip pulled in between his teeth to gnaw and gnash. He’s more than embarrassed, Victor realizes. Yuuri’s also very _very_ pissed.

Victor begins to step from side to side, ears growing hot. “I. . .panicked,” he says lamely. Victor Nikiforov doesn’t panic. If he does, he does it with class and style. That mess at the mall was _far from it_.

Yuuri huffs and rubs his face once, twice, groans, and breathes in deep.

He looks up at Victor, then turns away from him and crosses his arms.

“Where’s the pirozhki stand?” Yuuri asks the nearest sign post.

“Huh?” Victor asks and Yuuri drops his head down. 

“. . .I’m still hungry. . .but I want to go back to the mall _right away_ ,” Yuuri states and sticks his hands into his pockets. “So just. . .lead the way,” he mumbles, tone quiet.

Victor swallows. He walks over, standing behind Yuuri who doesn’t dignify him with a glance. Nor does he tremble when Victor rests a soft hand on his shoulder. He pulls away from Victor and begins to walk forward, not even sure if that is the correct direction to where they need to go.

Victor bites the inside of his cheek and follows after.

Eventually he walks in step with Yuuri, then walks ahead to take the lead while Yuuri follows in dead silence and though the sludge of snow.

 

* * *

 

Victor tries to reconcile with Yuuri during their walk. The keyword is ‘ _tries_ ’.

He slows his pace down till he’s walking side by side and gently murmur the skater’s name in a sorry plea. In response, Yuuri will either speed his pace up till he is walking ahead of Victor or slow his pace further so he falls behind.

Both of these strategies end with the two of them standing on the sidewalk in the snow, waiting for the other person to move first since Yuuri has no idea where he’s going or how to get back. It’s always Victor that moves first, because it’s too fucking cold and he’s not going to let Yuuri come down with pneumonia while they engage in their one-sided staring contests.

They repeat this process about five times, Victor whining Yuuri’s name with each turn and Yuuri _almost_ appearing to come around, but still remaining firm. It makes the walk to the stand take _way_ longer than the few minutes Victor promised.

His hands are deep in his pockets, jaw chattering and nose ready to start running. The snow is still coming down on them heavy, and it would be _much_ nicer – and Victor will have an excuse for Yuuri to walk beside him – if they had the umbrella that’s tucked away in the backseat of his car to give them some sort of cover.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yuuri wrapping arms around himself, the shivering cold taking its toll on his body just as badly on Victor’s. That outfit isn’t like Yuuri’s normal winter wear, all puffy coats and knit hats. He’s probably not even wearing that many layers underneath the coat and turtleneck. It’s a sexy date night outfit, but not practical for winter weather.

They get down pass another block, streets emptying of cars and people with every passing minute. He doesn’t even know what time it is, or how much time they have left. He realizes he didn’t even care to concern himself with how much of an actual distance this food cart really is from the mall. Phichit is probably worried about where Yuuri is, and he just ditched Mila and Yuri when it was supposed to be a night spent with them.

All because he selfishly wants Yuuri all to himself and can’t fathom him falling for someone else first.

And those selfish desires just made Yuuri upset with him, Mila and Yuri most likely to bury him in a ditch when he returns, and level up’s Victor’s concerns of ‘I’m going to scare Yuuri away before I can tell him how I really feel’, keeping their relationship on shaky ground that can crumble at any moment. 

. . .He can’t do this. He can’t act like he is all that Yuuri needs, all he _should_ need, when that’s not what Yuuri wants him to be. He doesn’t need Victor to be a lover to him right now, or a protector against a creep that may or may not have a sex dungeon. Yuuri is a grown man; he can make his own choices on who he wants as a partner.

What Victor really wants is to be _something_ special to Yuuri.

He doesn’t know what that role may be, or how he can fill it without burning bridges to get it. He can visualize their paths, parallel to each other and heading in the same direction, but doesn’t know how to make them cross and intertwine, weaving until it is only one.

He thinks maybe it’ll be time, except he’s always wondering when is it right and when it’s wrong. When to push, when to hold back. When to extend his hand, and how to wait for Yuuri to take it on his own.

They pass a convenience store about ready to close its doors for Christmas Eve and Victor pauses. Sitting in the window next to the entrance is a bucket of umbrellas, ranging from kid size to extra-large and in a variety of different colors and fun bright patterns. Victor looks over to Yuuri, still shivering and still avoiding eye contact whenever Victor gives him a glance.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells and steps through the sliding door.

It’s warm in here, but only barely. It takes a while for Victor to really feel the heater, and he doesn’t have the time to enjoy it either. He sifts through the umbrellas and picks out the biggest, heaviest one they have. He also grabs a pack of hand warmers and two beanies, dropping all of his items onto the counter in front of the clerk giving him a ‘It’s Christmas Eve, I want to go home, and yet here you are’ look.

Victor reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet and-

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

Oh.

 

. . .

 

_Shit._

He immediately begins to pat down his pockets for loose change, frantically digging in the front and then the back. He checks the breast pocket of his coat and comes up with a couple of bills and coins, trying to count through it quickly as the clerk impatiently drums their fingertips against the surface of the counter.

Breathing a sigh of relief when he finds he has enough to pay for the items and _one_ pirozhki, he makes his purchase and gives a heartfelt thank you to the clerk that just grunts back ‘Merry Christmas’ and bags his things.

Victor exits, immediately taking the tags off of the beanies and the umbrella as he approaches Yuuri who is dusting snow off his head and shoulders. Victor pulls his green beanie on; it fits snug, but it’s better at keeping his head warm than nothing at all. He hands the other beanie to Yuuri, who takes it with trembling hands. 

Victor opens up the umbrella, holding it out for Yuuri to take as well. He then opens up the pack of hand warmers and stuffs two in his pockets and gives the rest to Yuuri.

Any hardness in Yuuri’s eyes that existed in the beginning is now gone, and replaced with that sparkle of fondness that makes Victor feel warm inside despite the freezing temperatures they’re standing in.

Yuuri puts on his beanie, then opens his hand warmers to place in his coat pockets. He breathes out, slight relief, and holds the umbrella steady over them both. Victor smiles as Yuuri now ducks his head down for a different reason, a different embarrassment.

“Better?” Victor asks.

“. . .Much better,” Yuuri murmurs, and he looks up and into warm blue eyes.

 

_. . .I’m sorry._

_. . .Me too._

 

When Victor takes one step forward, Yuuri steps in synch.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s so _sweet_ ,” Yuuri fawns, breathing a sigh of pleasure after the first bite of an apple and cranberry filled pirozhok. Victor lets the image sink in, the rosiness of Yuuri’s cheeks and the bit of cranberry jam just in the corner of his mouth, before he looks away.

The vendor very kindly gave Victor another pirozhok for free, possibly out of pity for two shivering grown men trekking through snow and ice on Christmas Eve for _one_ pastry. Victor’s is more savory than Yuuri's, meat and potatoes and gravy soaking through the crisp bread crust. He makes a mess as he tears into it, not realizing before how hungry he was.

They share some bites so each could get a taste of the other flavor and stop at a café to grab some drinks. He knows Yuuri said that he wanted to go back to the mall as soon as possible, but they walk at a leisurely pace, side by side and not in a rush at all.

The Christmas lights are all aglow around them, though there are not that many people out to see. It’s all bright hues of blues and golds and reds and whites, snowmen and nutcrackers and candy canes all together in clusters they pass. They frame Yuuri beautifully as they walk past, the lights illuminating the shadows over his face in different changing colors that Victor can’t look away from.

“. . .The lights are beautiful,” Yuuri points out, breaking their comfortable silence that lasted a few minutes after finishing their food and drinks. Victor isn’t paying attention where they’re even going, or if they’re heading in the same direction they need to go to return to the mall. He wonders if Yuuri even cares to return back so quickly now, as the snowfall gets lighter and time seems to move slow just for the two of them to linger in their winter wonderland.

“Yeah. I never had the time to come down here and see them,” Victor says. “It’s nicer viewing them with someone in the snow like this.”

“Hmm? Why?” Yuuri asks and Victor smiles.

“I don’t know. It just is. It’s a feeling you can’t explain, like. . .why Makkachin is so cute. He just is,” Victor explains and Yuuri nods his head in complete understanding. They continue to walk and circle around the lit up building, Yuuri’s free hand brushing against Victor’s every other step.

“. . .I don’t understand,” Yuuri whispers after a beat of silence.

“The special feeling thing?” Victor asks and Yuuri shakes his head.

“You always manage to surprise me. Every time I think I can predict what you’re going to do, but you do something unexpected and everything gets turned on its head,” Yuuri says and ducks his chin down to his chest.

“I still want to be mad at you for that stunt at the mall,” Yuuri mumbles, “but now. . .I don’t know. . .you just make me feel really confused,” Yuuri blurts and Victor laughs.

“So I’m an enigma to you, Yuuri?” Victor asks with a lilt in his voice. Yuuri shrugs.

“Or a weirdo,” Yuuri suggests, no malice in that slightly teasing tone. Victor clicks his tongue.

“The only weirdo was your blind date tonight. The one that tried to drag you to his _sex dungeon_ ,” Victor says and Yuuri laughs.

“Well, I’ve seen weirder,” Yuuri says and Victor raises an eyebrow.

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Victor asks, leaning in close and Yuuri shakes his head, pushing Victor’s face away.

“They’re _pretty_ embarrassing. I pretty much never had a normal dating experience,” Yuuri complains with a groan and Victor pauses at the corner, waiting for the light.

“Well, if we’re talking about abnormal dating experiences, I once went on a date with a guy who thought I was _really_ into the Beatles for some reason,” Victor begins, “He showed up with a mop cut, talked in a horrible British accent, tried to work in Beatles trivia every five seconds, _ugh_ ,” Victor pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes.

“Maybe he was nervous?” Yuuri says. He’s smiling, possibly trying to put the picture of Victor’s past date together in his head. 

“I tried to give him a second chance, but I couldn’t even get through five more minutes since I couldn’t understand a _word_ he was saying. We were going nowhere, I just got up and left,” Victor groans and Yuuri hums.

“Nowhere. . .man?” Yuuri says into the back of his hand, hiding his smile at his own little pun.

Victor places a hand over his eyes and turns his face upwards to groan. Why is he so _cute?_

“Oh, come on. That was funny!” Yuuri complains, and Victor knows. Yuuri says that Victor surprises him, when Yuuri keeps surprising _Victor_. He thinks he can’t fall for the skater more, and yet he does and he falls hard.

The light changes and they cross the street, walking even slower in step.

“Okay then,” Yuuri says and runs his tongue over his lower lip, “I went on a date with a guy from the art department when I was still in school. He was into photography and stuff, and on our first date he asked if he can take photos of me after he tied me up and had sex with me.”

Victor head whips over to look at Yuuri _so fast_. Yuuri has a hand over his face, ears redder than the light up candy canes they pass by.

“. . .Wow. That is significantly worse than my story,” Victor says and Yuuri cracks a smile.

“He even said he had all the equipment he needed and we can get to it right away,” Yuuri says through his teeth.

“. . .You didn’t-”

“ _No!_ Oh my God, _no_ ,” Yuuri exclaims. He then lets out a sad sigh, suddenly contemplative. “Now that I think about it, a majority of people I went out on first dates had this creepy interest in me getting tied up and stowed away somewhere,” he says and looks up at Victor, rather concerned. “Do I just attract that type of person?” he asks.

Victor gives the tip of Yuuri’s nose a little tap. “It’s because you’re so young and beautiful. Don’t worry, in time you’ll graduate to having the generic asshole ask you out instead,” Victor chimes and Yuuri laughs an embarrassing little giggle-snort that pulls Victor’s smile from ear to ear.

They go on like that, step by step and side by side, recanting awful date stories to each other with big smiles on their faces. It seems that for every humiliating or awkward dating experience Victor has, Yuuri has one that is just as bizarre and outrageous. They laugh, they make jokes, they predict what their past dates are currently doing and if they’re spending tonight alone. They talk more than they ever talked before, a steady rapport that makes their bodies draw in close underneath the umbrella to chat and murmur and laugh as one.

When they approach a strip of frozen sidewalk, Victor takes the umbrella from Yuuri’s right hand into his own, then helps Yuuri across so neither of them doesn’t slip. When Victor’s grip begins to loosen, Yuuri just holds on tight.

“It’s warmer this way,” Yuuri says to counter Victor’s curious gaze, cheeks flushed.

Christmas music plays over the outdoor speakers hidden in the bushes for ambiance, dreamy orchestras and voices that swell with the music. Victor is actually feeling pretty tired; he knows now that they’re definitely not anywhere close to the mall, nor are they walking in the correct direction they need to be. He doesn't know the time and figures that if either of them want to get home, he’ll have to call a cab soon before they stop for the night.

He looks down at Yuuri, who is retelling the story of an awful movie date when he was sixteen – “Her hands were so _sweaty_ and she kept trying to kiss me as soon as the lights went down” – and trying not to lean most of his weight onto Victor’s arm. He sees Yuuri’s eyelashes flutter and his lips part to yawn every so often, and hears Yuuri’s hums grow lighter and dazed as Victor talks to him.

They enter a park, not the normal one that they usually frequent when they head to the outdoor rink. This one is smaller and more intimate; the white Christmas lights strung up in the bare tree branches guide their way towards a little gazebo next to a frozen pond. No one else is here tonight on the trail, their footprints in the snow the only ones.

“This park is beautiful in the spring. The flowers make you feel all cozy inside when you look at them,” Yuuri murmurs, looking up at the trees. Victor nods his head, thumb rubbing little circles into the back of Yuuri’s hand, enjoying Yuuri’s gentle voice for as long as he can. “. . .Okay, your turn.”

Victor hums. “Your stories always seem to top mine. I honestly can’t think of anything worse. . .have you ever went on a nice date? Not perfect or horrible, but it was just nice?” Victor asks.

Yuuri thinks for a few seconds. “This date wasn’t horrible. . .well, the beginning was super uncomfortable and the middle part of it was even worse, and I’m sure to get an earful from Phichit and worry about my date trying to get in contact with me again. . .but I’m ending tonight with you so. . .” Yuuri furrows his eyebrows and his cheeks puff up. “. . .Win?”

Victor snorts and laughs. “You’re too cute for your own good, Yuuri~” he says and Yuuri gives him a light hit on the shoulder.

“Shut up, I don’t know how else to say it,” Yuuri says and smiles, “I really like spending time with you, you already know that. Kind of wish we had something a little bit more fun to do tonight though,” Yuuri muses.

“We got pirozhki,” Victor points out and Yuuri nods his head.

“But we went skating the last time we spent the night together. Something fun like that.”

Victor looks around, snow blanketing everything around them. There’s nothing like food stalls and skating rinks to keep them entertained, but they can still create a little fun. He closes up the umbrella as an idea comes to mind, the snowfall not as bad as it had been earlier and light enough to not be such a nuisance.

“We can have some quick fun,” Victor says and walks ahead of Yuuri, crouching down to scoop up some snow into his gloved hands.

“For example,” he begins to form the snow, “I can show you how to make-”, the snow forms into a tight ball, “a nice little-”

Victor feels something cold hit directly between his shoulder blades and he jumps, dropping his perfectly crafted snowball.

He turns, seeing that Yuuri is already on the ground trying to gather up more snow for an even _bigger_ snowball. He’s smiling and laughing, entire face rosy and eyes sparkling from the Christmas lights.

“You have to be quicker than that!” Yuuri shouts and throws another snowball that misses Victor’s legs by an inch.

Victor throws away all his reserve and _beams_.

He scoops up a massive pile into his arms, ignores the way how the cold stings against his chest and charges towards Yuuri. Yuuri jumps up with snowballs tucked away in the crook of his arm and begins to throw them as he stumbles backwards and away from Victor. His aim is terrible; most of the snowballs fly past Victor’s face or only get him at the knees. But Yuuri doesn’t seem to care that he can’t see well enough to get a clear shot; his laugh is loud and _warm_ and it wakens Victor’s energy and desire to just stay out longer and longer.

Victor chases Yuuri around the park with his snow boulder, letting it melt against his chest as Yuuri always scrambles to grab some more snow to throw at Victor. The snowballs break apart as soon as they soar through the air, covering Victor in snow but not stopping his chase. Yuuri results to kicking snow upwards at Victor, arms splayed out wide to keep himself balanced as the snow they run through gets thicker and harder to move in.

“I thought you said you don’t have the stamina I do!” Yuuri shouts over his shoulder and he throws a snowball that successfully hits Victor in the shoulder.

“I can do this all night!” Victor pants. His legs are getting numb and his nose is running and his lips _are_ getting a little bit chapped, but he can keep up. He doesn’t want these moments with Yuuri to end. He wants all of Yuuri’s time, for this moment to be extended to eternity.

Yuuri gives Victor that smile that he adores, eyes crinkling.

“Oh, we’ll see about tha-”

_Whump!_

Yuuri instantly faceplants into the snow, creating a Yuuri-shaped indent in the ground. Victor sees a fallen tree branch sticking out from the ground that was once covered up with snow; Yuuri must have tripped over it without seeing. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or fawn at how cute Yuuri is. The noise that escapes from Victor’s mouth is a mixture of both.

“Are you okay?” he asks in the midst of his chuckles as Yuuri pushes himself to his knees.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says meekly and Victor grins.

“Good!” With that, he drops the pile of snow he’s been carrying right on Yuuri’s head.

Yuuri screams, his hands swinging around rapidly as some snow gets into his clothes and he tries to get it out. Victor laughs and points a finger at Yuuri on the ground, twisting and writhing and shivering. “You’re so cute, Yuuri! That face you’re making! It’s so ador-”

One of Yuuri’s hands latches itself around Victor’s ankle and pulls. His foot slips out from underneath him and he falls right on his ass. The snow immediately seeps into the butt of his jeans and the back of his thighs, up his spine and into his shirt. He feels his mouth twist into a grimace and his eyes blow open wide, but he keeps the scream of _fuck this is **really** cold_ down his throat.

Yuuri is on all fours in front of him, smiling.

“Look at the face _you’re_ making,” he says and Victor kicks up some snow that shrouds Yuuri’s vision for a split second. He moves without thinking, pushing to his knees to knock Yuuri onto his back in the snow with Victor towering over. Yuuri is still laughing, beanie askew and little clumps of snow decorating his hair like pearls. Victor’s hands are pinned at the sides of his head, his knees frame Yuuri’s hips.

Victor has had many lovers in the past. They were all equally beautiful in some way or another, be it physical or emotional. But Yuuri. . .

He’s never felt like this with any of his lovers in his past. Not even his first love.

Victor takes in the sight of Yuuri beneath him with snow in his hair and on his long eyelashes. The prettiest hue of pink bridges from his round cheeks and across his nose, ending at the tips of his ears. He’s smiling, trying to catch his breath as his giggles exhale in puffs of hot air from his mouth. The intensity swells in Victor’s gut and makes his throat dry. He feels his arms trembling above Yuuri’s lithe frame below him, a heavy desire igniting in his chest that burns his lungs from the inside out.

Victor’s hand raises up and cups Yuuri’s face and those brown eyes open, sparkling with mirth and warmth.

“Hmm?” he hums, absently turning his cheek into Victor’s palm.

Victor doesn’t say anything. His hand moves down, his thumb gently pressing against the plumpness of Yuuri’s bottom lips. Suddenly, Yuuri’s eyes seem to sparkle with something different. Something that Victor doesn’t understand and can’t decipher. He feels Yuuri’s warm breath shudder out against Victor’s thumb as he holds eye contact, chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

“. . .Victor?” he asks against Victor’s thumb, a cold hand going to hold Victor’s wrist but not pulling away his hand. For a few seconds, there’s a loud thumping in Victor’s ears that he recognizes as his own heavy heartbeat. Victor feels. . .nervous. But he’s not going to panic. He doesn’t panic. Not while Yuuri looks so. . .soft and gentle and like a dream.

He feels the words hanging on his lips, the desire to kiss Yuuri and know his mouth and his tongue. He wants to say it. . .he wants to tell him. . .

_Yuuri. . .I think. . .I’m in lo-_

 

_Lo-_

 

_La-_

 

“. . .Your lips are chapped,” Victor blurts.

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

_. . .uuuuuggggggghhhhh_

Yuuri blinks and pushes onto his elbows, touching his lips.

“Oh. . .um. . .” he pushes Victor away – _noo, why did he say that? He’s usually so good with his words and he says **that?!**_ – and begins to search through his pockets. Victor holds out a hand to wait, pretty sure he has some lip balm in his pockets. He searches the front and back, then his inner pocket and pulls out his phone to get to an unused tube of cherry lip balm.

He offers it to Yuuri, who takes it with a quiet ‘thank you’, and then glances at his phone screen. It’s almost midnight; maybe they’ll have to take an Uber back to the mall if they’re too far to walk.

 

**You have 60 notifications**

Victor unlocks his home screen. Half of the notifications are text messages, while the rest are missed call notifications and voicemails. Yuuri moves in close, shoulder to shoulder to retain some body heat, as Victor begins to go through the voicemails.

 

_First message_

_Victor, it’s Mila. We got the hot chocolates and we have no idea where you are so can you call back?_

_Second message_

_Victor, where the hell are you? Yura’s checked **every** bathroom here and he’s getting pissed. Hurry up and call back!_

_Third message_

_Victor, Yura’s doing that thing where he starts foaming at the mouth and tries to pick a fight with everybody. It’s funny, but unless you want to bail us out of jail Christmas morning, meet us in the food court in five more minutes._

_Fourth message_

**_VICTOR! YOU ASSHOLE! ANSWER THE PHONE!_ **

****

_Fifth message_

**_I’M GOING TO KILL YOU! ANSWER THE PHONE! THE MALL IS CLOSING AND YOU HAVE THE KEYS TO THE FUCKING CAR! ANSWER! THE! PHONE!_ **

****

_Sixth message_

**_YOU FUCK! YOU MET WITH THAT SKATER AND RAN OFF TOGETHER?! WE MET HIS FRIEND AND HE’S GOING TO CALL THE POLICE ON YOU FOR BEING SUCH A CREEP! PICK UP THE PHONE! I’M GOING TO MURDER YOU! GRRAAAAAAAAGH!_ **

****

_Seventh message._

_Hi, it’s Phichit~ So, I’m guessing you rescued Yuuri from his date and I’m not going to call the police on you for it, don’t worry. His cell phone is probably off because I tried to call him, so can you tell him to turn it back on? Plus, let him know our dates went back home and I don’t think we’ll be seeing them again any time soon. You two can hang out till midnight if you want, but if Yuuri doesn’t call me by then to let me know he’s still breathing, I’m going to hunt you down. Have fun!_

_Eighth message_

**_PICK UP THE PHONE ALREADY! THEY’RE DRAGGING ME TO KARAOKE! I WANT TO GO HOME!_ **

****

_Ninth message_

**_YOU OLD FART! I FUCKING HATE YOU AND YOUR STUPID BOY TOY! I’M GOING TO PUNCH YOU BOTH THE SECOND I SEE YOU! ANSWER THE PHONE! VICTOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRR!_ **

****

_Tenth message_

**_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!_ **

****

Victor lowers his phone and places his hand over his mouth.

And he laughs.

Yuuri is turning on his cell phone, looking at Victor with worried eyes. “He sounds angry,” Yuuri says and Victor runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. He scrolls through the rest of the voicemails that are different variations of Yuri screaming at him in Russian and cursing him out, while in the background Mila and Phichit obnoxiously singing 80s Pop Music and 90s Boy Band Songs.

“He’s going to tire himself out soon. He always does,” he says and gets to his feet. He helps Yuuri up onto his feet as well, rubbing little circles into the back of Yuuri’s hand.

“Your little brother?”

“Yep, he’s adorable isn’t he?” Victor chirps and Yuuri gives a confused smile.

“I suppose?” Yuuri asks more than says. Victor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down Yuuri’s arm to warm him up quicker. Yuuri shudders, but breathes out a relieved sigh and smiles. “Thanks. Needed that.”

“My pleasure,” Victor murmurs and looks at the phone in Yuuri’s hands. “You should probably call Phichit to let him know you’re alright before he hunts me down,” Victor says and Yuuri laughs.

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” Yuuri says with a smile, dialing Phichit’s number.

Victor dusts Yuuri of all the snow on his body, while Yuuri does the same to Victor. Victor spends a few minutes digging through snow to retrieve their umbrella that’s been buried, opening it and holding it over Yuuri’s head. Both huddle close together to generate some body heat, Yuuri wrapping an arm around Victor’s left bicep as he places his phone to his ear.

“Phichit?. . .Yeah, I’m fine. . .we’re both fine. . .hm? . . .Ok, um, we’re at a park,” Yuuri looks around, “the one with the gazebo? You took a selfie here in March? . . .Yeah. . .oh, so we’re not far. . .yeah we’ll be there in a couple of minutes. . .mm, see you.”

He hangs up and looks up at Victor. “They’re leaving the karaoke bar now,” Yuuri says, slipping his phone in his pocket. “We’re actually just a few blocks away from the mall. It shouldn't take us too long to get there. We need to make a right at that stoplight over there and continue on straight,” Yuuri says and Victor hums.

“Can we get some coffee first?”

“Victor, it’s only a few more minutes till Christmas morning. There’s no café open right now,” Yuuri says and yawns. Victor gives Yuuri’s arm a little squeeze.

“Don’t fall asleep on me if we have a while to walk,” Victor coos and Yuuri shakes his head, leaning it on Victor’s arm.

“Just keep talking to me. I’ll be fine,” Yuuri murmurs. Victor chuckles, gently leading Yuuri forward with a tug of the arm.

“Hmm. . .what story shall I tell you?” Victor muses aloud and Yuuri shrugs.

“Tell me another embarrassing date story,” Yuuri says and Victor laughs.

“You really enjoy hearing about my misery. My beautiful muse isn’t secretly a sadist, is he?”

“Not even,” Yuuri mumbles into his arm. “I just like hearing your voice,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

After a brief pause, Yuuri adds, “And they’re funny.”

Victor sighs. “Well, I suppose I can indulge in a _few_ more stories,” he says and Yuuri hums. They walk in silence for a little bit, out of the park and onto the sidewalk to head towards the stoplight. Victor looks down at the little flecks of snow still in Yuuri’s hair just now beginning to melt, then down at Yuuri’s softer looking lips. He’ll taste like cherries now. . .

Yuuri looks up at him and Victor looks away with a smile, face forward towards the stoplight. 

“Okay, a story. . .let me tell you about this guy that didn’t think I would notice he _wasn’t_ 5”11 when he said he was on his dating profile,” Victor begins. Yuuri is already laughing in Victor’s arm, and Victor loves every second of it.

 

* * *

 

As promised, Yuri begins to punch Victor on sight when they stroll over to the only two cars left in the mall’s parking lot. Victor knows the teenager is really tired, since his punches just feel like pats and he groggily calls Victor a ‘dumbass’ instead of his usually colorful language.

Yuuri is getting scolded by Phichit, but it’s a friendly kind that involves a lot of Phichit looking over at Victor, smiling, and laughing when Yuuri’s face gets all peachy. Whenever he and Yuuri lock eyes from across Victor’s car, Victor smiles and Yuuri reciprocates with a smile of his own.

Yuri will snap his fingers obnoxiously in front of his face so Victor will turn his attention back on his little brother chewing him out, but his head will always wander back over to gaze upon Yuuri after listening for about five seconds. Maybe less.

“So _that’s_ your muse,” Mila says, looking over at Yuuri before she turns to and raises a fist to Victor. “He’s a cutie,” she says with a smile.

Victor’s fist meets hers in a friendly little tap. “I know he is,” Victor breathes, heavy sigh as he turns to look at Yuuri for possibly the twelfth time. A fist connects to his chest and Victor painfully tears his eyes away to go back to Yuri, eyes bloodshot and teeth snarling.

“What the fuck were you doing that you couldn’t answer my calls?!” Yuri yells and Victor places a hand to his heart.

“We decided to elope. Congratulations, Yura, he’s your new brother-in-law,” Victor says with a smile and Yuri spits, shoving his hands into the pockets of his parka.

“Yeah _right_. That would mean you would have worked up the balls to actually tell him your _feelings_ instead of this stupid, creepy, stalker shit you’re doing now,” Yuri says and throws Yuuri a dirty look. “He’s not even that _cute_. He’s actually fatter in real life,” Yuri snaps and Mila slaps Yuri’s shoulder.

“Stop being rude. You’re always cranky when you’re tired, Yura,” Mila says and Yuri snarls.

“So why didn’t you just say ‘we should go home’?! I _told_ you I didn’t want to go to karaoke!”

“Aww, but you started getting really into it when you found out they had a 90s metal playlist. You gave _an amazing_ performance,” Mila coos and Yuri opens his mouth to spit out something very scathing to the older girl’s cocky little grin, when out of the corner of Victor’s eye he sees Yuuri approaching.

He turns to face the skater, Yuuri rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet.

“Um, so we’re going to head back home,” Yuuri says and he turns towards Mila and Yuri, bowing his head. “I’m really sorry for keeping you out so late tonight and taking Victor away when you two were supposed to spend time with him,” Yuuri apologizes and Mila waves her hand.

“It’s alright~ we can spend tomorrow with him while we open all the presents he got us,” Mila says and Victor blinks.

“I got you presents?” he asks and she nods her head, reaching into her back pocket.

“Here’s your wallet, by the way,” she says and tosses Victor’s wallet to him. He fumbles to catch it, stares at it in his hands for a bit, then sighs. Well, he supposes they’re even now.

Mila goes over to help Phichit unload all of the presents from his trunk to Victor’s, while Yuuri turns towards Yuri and folds his hands behind his back.

“Uh, I’m Yuuri Katsuki. it’s nice to meet you. Victor’s told me all about you,” Yuuri begins, extending his hand out in a friendly greeting. Yuri clicks his tongue, stomping up to Yuuri in his boots and narrowly steps on Yuuri’s foot.

He’s almost as tall as Yuuri, though Victor is sure that Yuri is going to grow as he gets older. But with Yuri radiating such an intense aura of _anger_ and dominance, and Yuuri beginning to tremble from the teen’s intense glare, it’s as if _Yuri_ is somehow the adult of the two.

“I don’t like you,” Yuri begins and Yuuri pales.

“H-Huh?”

“You make him more annoying than he already is,” Yuri complains, pointing a finger at Victor. “I’m getting sick of seeing your face plastered all over his apartment, he takes too many pictures of you on Instagram, he won’t shut up about you every time he sees me at work, even our _mom_ won’t shut up about you!” Yuri yells in Yuuri’s face.

“Ah, um. . .uh. . .”

“And you still hang around him after he almost set you on fire?! _Why?!_ Do you know he eats Kit-Kat bars whole instead of breaking them up like you’re _supposed_ to do?! Whenever he finishes a bag of popcorn, he always licks the butter off the sides of the bag! It’s so _gross!_ He likes to race people in the _fucking slow lane,_ _why do you like him?!_ ” Yuri demands and Victor pulls Yuri away.

“Okay, okay~ we’ll get you to bed soon. Go sit in the car,” Victor says, giving a tight squeeze to Yuri’s shoulder and a not so loving shove towards his car. Victor turns back to Yuuri, who is trying to process everything and sighs out a long ‘ha’.

“When you get to know him, his crabby attitude is actually very endearing. He’s just extra cranky cause he’s tired,” Victor explains and Yuuri nods his head.

“. . .You talk about me to your mother?” Yuuri asks and Victor feels his cheeks get warm.

“Ah, well, you know, cause you’re my muse and she was just curious about who the subject of my paintings for the exhibition is on. That sort of thing-”

Yuri is back over by Victor’s side and up in Yuuri’s face, having remembered something else to add to his angry-sleep filled rant.

“She keeps filling my room with stupid _crap_ for your _non-existent_ kid-” Victor grabs Yuri, turns him around in his arms, and tries to smother his face into his chest. Yuri flails around in Victor’s arms, screaming and kicking while Victor violently rocks Yuri from side to side and laughs loud.

“Oh my _sweet, **cute** little brother_ , you’re so sleepy you’re making up stories!” Victor says, squeezing Yuri’s skull _nice_ and tight. “I’ll just hurry up and get you and Mila home, come on Mila!” Victor shouts, looking over his shoulder to see Mila and Phichit standing together watching the scene unfold.

Mila has her phone trained on Yuri thrashing around in Victor’s hold, hand over her mouth to keep her snorts in. Phichit has his phone out too, but he isn’t documenting the scene and is only holding back his laughter as Victor opens the car door and all but _shoves_ Yuri in the backseat.

Victor closes the door and sighs, turning around to face Yuuri. He stands there, blinking owlishly and completely confused. Victor places hands on his hips and smiles, giving a little shrug.

“ _Teenagers_ ,” he says, like Yuuri is just supposed to _get it_.

After a minute or two, Yuuri just nods his head like he does.

Victor steps over, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Soo, I won’t be seeing you until New Year’s Eve. . .so this is just goodbye for now, my beautiful muse,” Victor says with a little pout and Yuuri smiles.

“If you’ll miss me _that_ much, I can always call you.”

“Ah, cause you’ll really just miss hearing my voice,” Victor points out and Yuuri bats Victor’s shoulder. Victor holds his shoulder, putting on a fake wounded expression and a puppy dog pout that makes Yuuri laugh and cover up his smile. Victor smiles and laughs too, straightening up his posture.

“I’ll see you soon, Yuuri,” Victor murmurs.

“Yeah.  . .” Yuuri says. They gaze at each other for a few minutes, neither one moving away to their respective vehicles and just staring at the dumb smiles on the other’s lips. Yuuri licks his lower lip and Victor follows the movement of Yuuri’s tongue with his eyes, not even realizing that Yuuri is now suddenly closer and his arms are wrapping around his neck.

He stands on his tip toes to tuck his face into Victor’s neck; Victor can feel Yuuri’s skin burning against his own. His body is shaking, but the moment Victor’s arms go around his midsection and he runs his hand from between Yuuri’s shoulder blades to the small of his back, the shaking ceases.

“. . .Happy Birthday, Victor,” Yuuri says for only Victor’s ears, and Victor’s lips ghost over the shell of Yuuri’s ear.

“Merry Christmas, Yuuri.”

_CLICK!_

There’s bright flash out of the corner of Victor’s eyes and both turn in the direction of Mila and Yuuri. Mila is holding her cheeks and is ‘ _awwwwwww_ ’-ing really loud, while Phichit _does_ have his phone raised up in their direction and is making the exact same noise. Yuuri breaks away from Victor, cheeks hot.

“P-Phichit!”

“But you guys were so cute just now! I _had_ to take a picture!” Phichit whines and Yuuri shakes his head furiously.

“Noooo! Delete it! Don’t post it!” Yuuri yelps and Mila shakes Phichit’s shoulder.

“Send me a copy before you delete it!” she begs and Yuuri begins to short circuit.

“No! Stoooop! No one’s sending copies of anything! Don’t – Phichit, _delete it!_ ” Yuuri stammers.

Victor’s car door opens and Yuri sticks his head out.

“Take me home already!” he screams at Victor and Victor nods his head, going over to shut the door back.

He turns and gestures for Mila to get in the car, while Yuuri and Phichit begin to fight over the phone and Yuuri tries to make a grab for it. “Goodnight, you two!” Victor shouts and Phichit waves his hand goodbye, keeping his phone from getting in Yuuri’s grasp at the same time.

Yuuri turns to look over his shoulder. “G-Goodnight!” he shouts back and Victor smiles, opening the car door and getting in slowly. He watches as Yuuri chases Phichit around the car and Phichit holds the phone out of Yuuri’s reach in the rearview mirror, before they eventually climb into Phichit’s roadster and Yuuri continues to beg Phichit to delete the photo.

Victor turns on his engine and begins to drive away, seeing the headlights of Phichit’s car turn on in the distance. He looks to the backseat and already sees Yuri begin to drowse off to sleep, head nodding up and down as he tries to stay awake and angry at Victor. The elder man smiles; Yuri can be quite adorable when he isn’t screaming his head off.

“Your little boyfriend is really cute~” Mila purrs and Victor chuckles.

“He’s not my boyfriend though.”

“Not _yet_.”

“Yeah. . .I think I’m in love with him,” Victor murmurs and Mila snorts.

“Uh, yeah? Obviously?” Mila says and Victor shakes his head.

“No, like. . .like I’m _really_ in love with him,” Victor explains, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tight. “I’ve never felt this way about someone. I’ve never even felt like this with the first man I’ve ever loved. . .he’s _perfect_. He’s beautiful and he’s sexy and he’s so talented at skating. He’s smart and he’s kind and he loves Makkachin, he’s just. . .” Victor _sighs_.

“Oh my gosh, you’re so sappy,” Mila laughs and leans back in her chair. “So are you thinking about telling him your feelings sooner?” she asks and Victor shrugs.

“I don’t know. I tried to tell him how I felt and I just. . .”

“Choked?”

“Hard,” Victor admits.

Mila winces. “Hmm. . .well, just take it easy. You’re always rushing into relationships and get bored of them super quickly once you had your fun. He seems like he’s a really nice guy and it would _really_ hurt him if you’re just basing your feelings because you’re still on your ‘inspiration kick’.”

“I know, I know. I’m trying to be patient about this and get to know him better as a person. . .but it’s just so _hard_ when he’s _there_ and I just. . .want to _kiss him_ and _hold him_ and. . . _kiss him_.”

In the back seat, Yuri makes a retching noise. Huh, guess he’s not _fully_ asleep.

“Well cool it, Casanova. Like I said, you get _really_ annoying when you’re interested in someone. It’s not going to do anyone good if you smother him with your _throes_ of passion when he’s just not ready for a relationship,” Mila says and twirls a red lock between her fingers.

“Phichit told me that Yuuri is really shy and not the type of person to have someone fawn over him all the time. He tries to get Yuuri out there in the dating scene, but most of the time Yuuri never calls his date back,” Mila explains and Victor hums. It’s probably because most of Yuuri’s dates are picked from the ‘pool of creeps’, but he’ll keep that to himself.

“I know he’s shy. . .but I know that he has a side of him that’s confident and sexy too and it just makes me want him more,” Victor says and sighs. “I don’t want to scare him away if I move too fast, but sometimes I can’t help it. He’s opening up to me more and more and he’s getting comfortable with me touching him and him touching me. I mean, I still startle him sometimes and I’m trying to do that less often. . .but I know we’re developing something deep between us that’s more than ‘just friends’.”

“You think he feels the same way?” Mila asks and Victor shrugs.

“Maybe? I don’t know, I don’t want to jump to conclusions and get my hopes up,” Victor says and stops at a red light. “I know that he has this beauty inside of him and it drives me crazy when he doesn’t think the same. I want to make him realize how beautiful he is, whether that be through my art or through my love for him. They’re one in the same to me, but maybe I need to make it more distinguished,” Victor explains.

“I don’t know what he wants me to be to him, a friend, a partner, a lover. I don’t know how to ask him either. I know I want to be so much more, but I want to be what _he wants_ me to be,” Victor says.

“. . .So if he just wants you to be a friend?” Mila asks.

“. . .Then I’ll love him as a friend and ask for nothing more,” Victor murmurs. “I think. . .I think I’ve already passed the point where I can just back out of all of this and find someone else to latch onto. Those stupid mittens were the tipping point,” Victor says and leans back into his chair. “If all he wants me to be is a friend, then I’ll be that for him. Eventually, the inspiration will fade away, and maybe I’ll fall out of love with him. But deep down, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.”

_BLECH!_

“Yura, are you asleep or not?” Mila asks, looking over her shoulder.

“I’m trying to sleep so stop talking about this mushy-gushy lovey shit already,” Yuri spits and tries to get comfortable against the car door to sleep.

Victor sighs and turns on the radio.

“I can’t believe I just shared all my feelings about love to someone a decade younger than me,” Victor says and Mila pouts.

“So my opinion isn’t valid?” she asks and Victor chuckles.

“No. I’m just realizing how this ‘being in love with Yuuri’ is driving me up the wall and I should probably talk to someone with a little bit more experience with love,” Victor says and Mila raises an eyebrow.

“Like Georgi?”

Victor winces. “ _Definitely_ not Georgi.”

They both share a little laugh and Mila goes to look out her passenger window, while Victor keeps his eyes forward and thinks.

It’s just time. He just needs to wait and let things happen. But Victor has always been the one to rush. He has a one track mind and when he wants something, he pursues it relentlessly at the expense of others. He just can’t do that to Yuuri. Yuuri is more than something dangling in front of Victor’s face that he tries to chase. He _deserves_ more than this chase. 

He knows he’s in love with Yuuri; now he needs to just let things happen as they fall, and learn to _love_ Yuuri as they do.

 

* * *

 

Around three in the morning, Victor receives a text message from Phichit. Attached is the picture of Yuuri and Victor hugging, along with a text telling Victor he’s not going to upload it to Instagram since this picture is something ‘just for them’. He’s going to spam Instagram with videos of Yuri belting out karaoke and selfies with Mila instead, but Victor’s fine with that. 

He makes the picture his home screen, and lets the image sear permanently into his mind until that is all he can dream about.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> insert "being in the snow with my lover like this immerses me in a special feeling" meme in story
> 
> yuuri skates to ["4:00 AM" by Taeko Ohnuki](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YixAD9GIAuY), because if there's anything i love more than music from the 70s/80s, it's JAPANESE music from the 70s/80s. realistically, the instrumental break down would either be mixed into the rest of the FS or left out entirely because it's WAY over the time limit.
> 
> and iM SO GLAD I DIDN'T GIVE THAT MUCH TO CHRISTOPHE LAST CHAPTERCAUSE HOLY HELL I WAS SO WRONG ABOUT HIM JFC i know that lots of people don't really like him and i do admit he does have a little bit of a creeper vibe to him (he kind of reminds me of France from Hetalia tbh) especially when dealing with yuuri (he seems pretty normal about victor idk what the hell is going on with him chris ???) and idk why but i felt like he was going to be flirty with yuuri but not to THAT extent. and GEORGI IS NOW IN MY TOP 5 FAV SKATERS GOD HES SUCH A HOT MESS I LOVE IT
> 
> for the next chapter i'm going to wait until the first episode of rostelecom airs because guys we saw a cameo of jj we are SO CLOSE I CAN ALMOST TASTE IT I JSUT NEED TO SEE HIM ON SCREEN AND I WILL BE COMPLETE


	4. don't tell me what it's all about

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “God, when are you going to date him? You’re so fucking annoying whining about him all the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJ didn't make a cameo OTL
> 
> bUTHOLYFDCK
> 
> chapter title from Burt Bacharach's "I'll Never Fall In Love Again"

“There’s no ending,” Christophe points out. 

The art curator is rolling a pen cap between his teeth with his tongue in that innocent – or not – way he does when he thinks. Besides him, his assistant squirms in their spot with all focus on Christophe’s mouth.

Victor looks back down at the list of artwork currently submitted for the exhibition in his hands. It’s minor inventory, with Christophe’s notes alongside each small picture of Victor’s pieces asking for specific details on how they should be displayed and what lighting is needed, along with starting prices for the artwork to be auctioned towards the end of the exhibition.

His eyes go through the list of paintings once, twice, and he twists his lips in frustration.

He’s right; there’s no ending for the story Victor’s trying to put together about Yuuri. It all moves so quickly, rushing through Yuuri’s simple everyday routine and jumps head first in the fantastical and alluring part of Yuuri’s figure skating programs before it abruptly ends.

Even in his paintings, it shows how eager Victor is to rush to see that beautiful and confident side of Yuuri more and more. Where Yuuri lets his guard down to express himself without Victor’s guidance, and lays his raw emotions on the ice for Victor’s eyes to drink it all up.

Victor rubs his chin, glancing back up to Christophe’s gaze.

“What do you suggest then?” he asks, putting on a smile to mask the irritation with himself that his emotions are getting in the way _again_. Christophe rolls the pen cap in between his teeth and bites, humming as his assistant begins to fidget and clutch their clipboard too tight.

“This is a first for you. You always lived for your art and squeezed out every bit of passion and emotion you can get from the thing that inspired you. It’s strange that you don’t seem to be doing the same thing with this muse of yours,” Christophe notes.

Victor keeps his eyes on the paperwork in his hands. He doesn’t _want_ to put Yuuri through the wringer and pull the eros that he _knows_ is there out by force. Yuuri has a fragile heart with emotions that he tries to bottle and conceal; he tries to hide his insecurities from Victor and keep his troublesome thoughts to himself. It’s no longer about Victor making art, it’s about making Yuuri _happy_. Forcing Yuuri into a state of mind just to only give Victor the results he needs is going to make them _both_ miserable.

“Your subject in your paintings is beautiful, no doubt,” Christophe says, pulling the pen cap from his mouth. His assistant breathes a sigh of relief as he continues, “He has a sexual innocence about him that captivates me for some reason.”

“I’m not planning on making my exhibit one day of erotic art for you if that’s what you’re getting at,” Victor says and Christophe smirks, clicking his tongue.

“But you see that it’s there, don’t you? The only thing that can top this innocent, sexual love is if it blooms into a mature, erotic passion,” Christophe says and steps close, eyes growing hungry with want. “Tell the story of the day your muse loses his sexual innocence and gives into his passions. All your ‘innocent’ paintings of him already have a hint of eroticism, so you don’t have to do any extra work if that’s your concern.”

“I didn’t paint him erotically in the first place. You’re just being a pervert,” Victor sing-songs. Christophe shrugs, like he isn’t going to deny it.

“Just a suggestion so you don’t have to redo all of your work. We’re getting down to the wire in case you didn’t notice,” Christophe says with a smile. There _are_ fewer paintings hanging in the current exhibit they’re standing in; the auction must have started and now the museum is in the process of wrapping the current exhibition up.

“I’m not asking you to paint a picture of him getting fucked. Just give me an ending that will satisfy me the only way you know how~” Christophe whimpers, dragging his finger over his lower lip as he lets out a breathy sigh.

His assistant turns scarlet and quickly excuses themselves from Christophe’s side.

Victor closes his eyes. “I’m sure I can think of an ending that will make you feel that iconic, orgasmic bliss of yours. Just give me more time to plan it all out,” Victor murmurs.

He’s going to tell the story he wants to tell about Yuuri. Yuuri is more than a body to have wet dreams about; he’s more than a face that only looks beautiful when in ecstasy. He wants the people to fall in love with Yuuri as much as he has. He wants everyone to see Yuuri’s beauty and feel the passion he has for his skating. If he can’t do something as simple as that. . .if he can’t stop these moments of lust and want from taking over the entire composition of his work. . .

Christophe’s hand claps onto Victor’s shoulder and Victor looks over at him. Christophe is giving him a smile that isn’t teasing or sly; it’s knowing and calm, like he knows that in the end Victor will make the right choice, but won’t say what the choice _is_.

“Your work always makes me feel bliss. I wouldn’t let you into the exhibition if I didn’t think you can produce something worthwhile. If you think he’s enough to satisfy you as is, then convince me,” Christophe purrs. He gives Victor’s shoulder a little squeeze, trailing his hand down to the small of Victor’s back. “Let us see the true beauty of your muse,” he says in Victor’s ear and pulls back with a smile.

Christophe strolls away with a saunter in his hips, leaving Victor behind to think. The Russian man pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs in deeply and leans his back against the wall next to a painting of tiger lilies in bloom. What is Yuuri’s story that he’s trying to tell? What is the story that he _can_ tell when he still feels there’s so much more he needs to know? Twenty-four hours isn’t enough to encompass the feelings Victor has for Yuuri that he’s still discovering with each day that passes by. What will _work?_

Victor jumps in his spot when he feels his cell phone buzz in his jean pocket. He slips it out and gives a little glance at the home screen.

 

_> ah, sorry if you’re busy! Just wanted to let you know phichit wants to do white elephant during the party_

_> if you want to play, then bring something under twenty dollars_

_> have a nice day!_

Victor smiles fondly at the text message.

 

_> >is it terrible gifts or good gifts_

_> terrible gifts_

_> >haha sounds fun! Im in!_

_> >I cant wait to see you again my beautiful muse_

_> its only been a few days victor_

_> >which means its one day too many_

_> we’ll see each other soon :)_

_> gotta go back to work. I’ll talk to you later!_

_> >byee~_

Victor has the phone smothering his face, exhaling deep as he closes his eyes.

He just needs to take his time.

Yuuri’s story and its ending will reveal itself to Victor as clear as day, and his true beauty will finally be shown to everyone.

 

* * *

 

“If you need to give a shitty present, how about those mittens?" 

“That’s not funny,” Victor says, flat. The mittens are still sitting in his art bag, reminding him every time that he opens the zipper that he is both a coward and a lovesick idiot with their freakishly long wrists and awkwardly placed thumbs.

Yuri snorts, throwing the dart to pop another paint filled balloon. It splatters yellow paint over the canvas and over the tarp beneath, with some flecks of paint flying onto Victor’s jeans.

“Besides,” Victor continues, collecting the darts from the canvas, “it’s supposed to be something that anyone can pick and steal if they want to.”

“Why are you putting so much thought into this anyways? If it’s supposed to be a shitty gift, just put toilet paper in there or something,” Yuri begins and takes the darts from Victor. He lines up the first shot and throws, popping another balloon and splattering blue paint all over. He watches the blues and yellows run together to make a sickly looking green akin to vomit and nods his head in approval.

“Well, there’s the fact that Yuuri might pick it. I don’t want it to be _too_ horrible. I want it to be something he likes at least-”

“The entire _point_ is to give a shitty gift! He’s not _supposed_ to like it!” Yuri exclaims and throws the dart, popping a red balloon to spill red paint. “God, when are you going to date him? You’re so fucking annoying whining about him all the time.”

“You know that if we _do_ start dating, he’s just going to be around me even more, don’t you?” Victor points out. Yuri stands for a few minutes, letting that information sink in and watches the paint for his art project streak and run into muddled colors. Victor takes a dart from Yuri’s fingers and gives it a toss, popping a green balloon.

He’s positive Yuri’s art teacher will have _no idea_ what this painting is supposed to mean when he turns it in after winter break. It just screams laziness and a means to an end. . .but maybe that’s what it’s supposed to signify in the first place.

“. . . _Ugh_ ,” Yuri finally shudders.

“I’ll be telling him how much I love him every single day,” Victor purrs.

“ _Stop it_.”

“And we’ll give each other little pet names and play footsie with each other under the table at dinnertime,” Victor _fawns_.

“I’m going to shove this dart _so far up your ass_ if you don’t _shut up_ ,” Yuri threatens and Victor holds his face, giving an over exaggerated sigh.

“Just you wait, Yura~ Once you find someone that makes you feel the way I feel whenever I look at him, you’ll see,” Victor says and Yuri clicks his tongue.

“If I _ever_ get as stupid as you are over someone, I’m going to stick my head in the blenders at work,” Yuri spits. Victor smiles, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and smearing paint over his cheeks with his fingertips.

“Hmm, what should I gift?” Victor muses aloud, looking down at Makkachin rubbing against his leg. “Makkachin, do you have any ideas?” he asks as Makkachin snuggles against Victor’s calves.

“I can’t believe you’re asking a _dog_ on what to-” Yuri pauses mid-aim, eyes wide. He turns to Victor. “I want to give a gift too.”

“. . .What?”

“You heard me! I want to give one too!” Yuri yells as if the volume of his voice is the reason Victor didn’t understand him in the first place. Victor crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at his younger brother.

“Do you just want to come along with me? I’m sure Phichit won’t mind-”

“I don’t want to go to watch you slobbering all over him and Mila and Phichit slobber over you _both_ ,” Yuri hisses.

“Ah, Mila’s coming too?” Victor asks and hums. Well, he _has_ seen Mila liking and showing up in the comments on Phichit’s Instagram photos lately. The two must have taken to each other rather quickly in the time he and Yuuri were on their little Christmas Eve excursion. Yuri clicks his tongue, puffing his cheeks in annoyance.

“She was _supposed_ to hang out with me, but I guess she’d rather watch the trainwreck that is you trying to act normal around your figure skating piggy,” Yuri grumbles. Victor can hear a slight inflection of hurt underneath all of venom, he can see the downcast of Yuri’s eyes as he turns the darts over in between his paint splotched fingers.

Victor walks over and raises his hands to Yuri’s face, pinching both of his cheeks. Yuri squawks as Victor pulls his cheeks out to form a smile and then smushes his cheeks inwards till his lips pucker.

“We’ll come and visit you and Mama after the ball drops! We can toast with apple cider and play Mario Kart like old times!” Victor suggests and Yuri yanks his head out of Victor’s hold.

“I don’t care! You can be gross about your stupid crush and Mila can go be an old hag with Phichit – I’m still pissed that he posted those videos of me! He told me he wasn’t filming anything! In fact, he should be happy I’m not going to that party because if I _was_ ,” Yuri points at a balloon, “that balloon would be his face and _this_ ,” he raises a dart, “would be my fist and I’ll-” Yuri throws the dart and it soars through the air with all of Yuri’s aggression and anger powering it.

The dart misses the balloon, but Victor gets the point.

Yuri huffs, nostrils flaring as Victor gives a little chuckle. “I’m just sick of hearing about you and him and there’s _nothing happening to talk about_. Love shouldn’t be this _stupid_ ,” Yuri grumbles and Victor shakes his head.

“It makes you stupid. But that just makes it even more worthwhile, doesn’t it?” Victor says. Yuri throws another dart and it pops the balloon that is supposed to symbolize Phichit’s face. He gives a little fist pump, readying another dart.

“And that’s _exactly_ the stupid response some idiot in love would say,” Yuri points out and throws another dart to pop a purple balloon. “He better be worth all this trouble. Like, he _better_ love you more than anyone else can.”

“Hmm, that’ll be tough because you, as my sweet baby brother, love me _so much_ ,” Victor says.

Yuri begins to aim the dart at Victor’s forehead.

Victor laughs, grabbing a pillow off his couch to shield himself. “Just kidding! Just kidding!” he says with a big grin while Yuri grinds his teeth. Victor flops onto the couch and tilts his head back upwards to the ceiling, breathing out a sigh.

“I admit that I’m an idiot for letting this drag for so long. . .the exhibition is in mid-February and tomorrow is the last day of the year. I’ll have a little bit more over a month to confess to him and make it _perfect_ ,” Victor says and closes his eyes.

He’ll submit the final painting for the exhibition and Victor will have told a story of Yuuri that puts the skater’s beauty on display for all to adore. Victor will call Yuuri and they’ll stroll through the art gallery together for the pre-show, admiring the fruition of their work coming to light.

Victor will treat Yuuri to a nice dinner, not like the ones they share in a cramped sandwich shop or the ones over a large tray of fries and shakes and burgers. The fancy ones that might have a violinist play at your table, candlelight at the table to give Yuuri’s eyes the perfect amount of sparkle. They’d chat, they’d drink, they’d share caresses of the hand and those comfortable gazes across the table and everything will just be _perfect_.

And that time, Victor will not have anything to hold him back. There’ll be nothing to fear about Victor not acting as an artist should be around his model. He’ll just lay it out on the line and hope, _pray_ , that Yuuri feels the same intense longing that threatens to swallow Victor whole every time he sees Yuuri’s face.

He opens his eyes to see Yuri collecting the darts he’s thrown from the canvas, a few balloons remaining to be popped.

“Just don’t bite off more than you can chew, like you _always_ do,” Yuri chides. He throws a dart and it pops a white balloon, white paint dribbling down the side of the canvas.

Victor knows what Yuri means. He understands the warning Yuri tells him. Yuri has always seen the messes that Victor gets himself into when he dives into a relationship purely built on passion and manic inspiration. It spirals out of control and becomes too hard to swallow; it becomes a beautiful piece of artwork that someone decides to smear their hands over and ruin just what made it beautiful in the first place, and Victor’s the perpetrator.

Love _does_ make you stupid. Victor’s done stupid things that hurt his lovers before. The relationships always start out strong, then slowly fizzles out into a complacency that doesn’t sit right with Victor. It suffocates him and frustrates him and makes him _stupid_.

He didn’t try to hurt his lovers, but he always ends up doing so anyways through the little things. He forgets about details; he becomes more careless and free and _bored_. The love he has for his lovers always dissolves and ends quieter than they begin, with a smile on Victor’s face that is objectively kind and warm, but now says that he’s sorry their ‘we’ has soften into ‘just you’ and ‘just me’.

He knows that what he feels for Yuuri is different than anything he’s felt from his past lovers, but that doesn’t make him any less worried about hurting Yuuri in the same careless way he’s hurt others before. He’s never been good with emotions, with crying and heartache; he always responds to moments of tension with the simplest solution that works like a band-aid trying to patch up a slash across the stomach. A careless kiss to stop the tears but doesn’t fix the problem is his most used tool.

He’s been careless with Yuuri already, he’s pushed Yuuri into corners before but not fully off the edge. He’s fucked up before and Victor doesn’t. want. it. to. happen. _again._

Because Yuuri deserves more than that. He deserves _so much more_ and Victor wants to give to him all that he can offer with his love, wide as the galaxy and filled with as much adoration as there are stars.

 

* * *

 

Phichit is the one to greet Victor at the door with a quick ‘welcome to the party’ selfie and slap on the back, big smile on his lips as he tips back his New Year’s Eve hat. 

“Glad you could make it!” Phichit chirps and looks down to the two gifts in Victor’s grasp. Victor’s is wrapped up in green and yellow wrapping paper, a gaudy bow slapped directly into the middle. Yuri’s, on the other hand, is in a large circular box and looks so _beautiful_ to the eyes. He’s sure that his mother helped him, because there’s no way Yuri would put this much effort into wrapping a gift that’ll go to someone he might not know.

He’s worried about this sudden generosity. Part of him just wants to waste his turn and take Yuri’s present to protect everyone else from _whatever_ fucked up thing Yuri must have given as a gag gift.

Phichit takes Victor’s presents off his hands. “Oooh, _two_ gifts. Is one of these for Yuuri?” Phichit asks _loudly_. Victor looks over Phichit’s shoulder into the apartment and sees that Yuuri is busying himself in the kitchen and hasn’t noticed his arrival yet. His eyes go back to Phichit, smiling.

“No, Yuri just wanted to give a gift too,” Victor explains. Phichit cocks his head to the side.

“Did he want to come too?” Phichit asks, gesturing for Victor to come inside with a tilt of the head. Victor does, welcoming the warmth from inside the apartment with a sigh.

“He’s going to spend New Year’s Eve with our mother. I’m going to visit them after midnight strikes,” Victor says. His eyes immediately go back to Yuuri like a magnet, eyes starting at the nape of Yuuri’s exposed neck and trailing down to the slipper socks with little piglets on his feet. It’s amazing; he doesn’t even need to make eye contact with Victor and yet, just being in Yuuri’s presence makes things feel _nice_.

“Hey,” Phichit says, bringing Victor back down to Earth for a few seconds as he steps in closer to the artist.

“He doesn’t have that many close friends. Me, Yuko and Takeshi have been by his side for a really long time and there’s still some things that he tries to keep hidden from us because he thinks it’ll be an inconvenience,” Phichit says, eyes soft and gentle. “We want the best for him and we want him to be happy and comfortable with someone that loves him and brings the best out of him in ways that we can’t. If you’re willing to be that person for Yuuri, then I approve and will be behind you a hundred percent.”

Victor smiles. “Thank you, I appreciate-”

“But at the same time,” Phichit interrupts, “Yuuri has _never_ been in a serious relationship before, and doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love and have someone love him. If you try and take advantage of that, and push him into doing something he doesn’t want out of ‘love’, you’ll be _sorry_.”

The threat is quiet and gentle, but the emotion behind it is dead serious and protective. Victor takes it immediately to heart. 

“I understand,” Victor says, serious. Phichit closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath and nods. His chipper smile is back on his lips in a matter of seconds.

“Great!” he chirps and jostles the presents. “I’ll just put these with the rest,” Phichit says and turns, walking past Yuuri who is now approaching with a plate of cookies. Yuuri follows Phichit’s movement with his head, then turns to Victor with an eyebrow raised.

“What did Phichit want to talk about?” Yuuri asks. Victor takes a sugar cookie off the plate being offered.

“How I got my hair so beautiful and shiny,” Victor answers, taking a bite. It’s soft and _extra_ sweet; he hums at the taste.

“Oh, so it’s not thinning anymore?” Yuuri inquires and Victor leans over to mess up Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri laughs, pulling away as he tries to keep hold of the cookies. “Quit it before I drop them,” Yuuri demands and looks down at the cookies in his hand. “It tastes good?”

“Yes. Did you make them?” Victor asks. They start to gravitate towards the kitchen, past Mila who is currently fiddling around with Phichit’s stereo system alongside another girl with a half shave haircut and a young couple snuggling together on the couch.

“Yeah. I didn’t get the chance to have Christmas cookies while I was with my parents, so I figured why not,” Yuuri says, setting the plate on the counter. He leans up against the sink, taking a cookie for himself while Victor moves to stand next to him, arm pressing lightly against Yuuri’s.

Yuuri gives a little hum, looking at the cookie in his hands. “I’ll regret this later. I always get fat over the holidays since I try to eat all the extra food Phichit’s parents and my parents push onto us,” Yuuri mumbles. He takes a bite of the cookie, closes his eyes and _sighs_. Victor’s smile curls onto his lips.

“You can’t get _that_ fat. Besides, you’ll still look beautiful even with a little bit of weight on you,” Victor says with a smile. He sees a flush of red break out over Yuuri’s nose from his words, but Yuuri closes his eyes and smiles.

Victor’s hand is twitching to touch him again, to hold his hand or brush through his hair. He distracts the urge by tapping an awkward beat on the side of his thigh.

“Was your birthday as fun as it looked on Instagram?” Yuuri asks and Victor nods his head.

“You mean everyone opening the presents I bought and the dinner? Quite fun,” Victor says and leans in close. “I still wish you were there with me to dress Makkachin up though.”

Yuuri snorts, hiding his smile behind his hand. “I saw the picture and saved it to my phone. Where did you even _find_ a Santa costume for dogs?” he asks

“I have my sources,” Victor laughs and – fuck it – puts his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and leans more of his weight onto him. Yuuri laughs, his glasses going slightly askew.

“So. . .speaking of Makkachin. . .dogs. . .presents. . .” Yuuri’s voice trails off and his eyes find interest with the floor. “Um, so I actually-”

 

**_SKREEEEEEEEEE_ **

****

Yuuri jumps with a yelp, hands going to his ears as he recoils right into Victor’s arms. Mila quickly turns down the dial to silence the feedback from the speakers, looking over her shoulder with a sheepish expression.

“Sorry!” she calls out and Yuuri breathes out a sigh, looking up at Victor as Victor slides his arms down to hold Yuuri by his waist.

“You okay?” Victor asks, looking at how his eyes are reflected in the lenses of Yuuri’s glasses.

“Yeah. . .just had a mini flashback to that time the fire alarm went off at your apartment and us almost dying in a fiery haze,” Yuuri says and there it is, that _cheeky little smile_.

“We did _not_ almost die,” Victor corrects and huffs. “When will people stop bringing that story up?”

“Oh come on, it was funny. It reminded me how much of a dork you can really be,” Yuuri says and laughs to himself. Victor smiles, slowly rocking from side to side with Yuuri in his arms to an unheard melody. Yuuri moves with Victor, hands on Victor’s shoulders and just looking up at Victor with such fondness and warmth.

Eventually, Yuuri breaks his gaze and turns his head downwards, a little chuckle escaping his lips.

“We always do this ‘silent thing’. I thought we would have grown out of it by now,” he says, Victor hearing the smile in his voice.

“I don’t mind,” Victor responds. Because he doesn’t; he wants these silent moments just gazing at each other and enjoying the presence to last forever.

But, it doesn’t.

Yuuri gently pulls away when Phichit comes back in and announces for everyone to get ready for the gift exchange, and Victor doesn’t try to pull him back and tell him the words that only _now_ come to the front of his mind. He watches Yuuri walk into the living room and takes a seat next to the young couple. Yuuri looks over his shoulder at Victor and smiles, patting the spot beside him.

Victor is by his side in a heartbeat.

When everyone is seated in a circle, faint Christmas music playing in the background and huge stack of presents in the middle, Phichit takes the time to introduce the new faces. He introduces Mila and Victor as friends of Yuuri and Victor gets to know the couple next to Yuuri as well as the other guests.

Guang-Hong Ji is about to graduate high school and Leo de la Iglesia is a freshman music major. They’re the kind of couple that seems forever stuck in the honeymoon phase, arms tangled around each other so much as if they’re trying to force their bodies to fuse together and never leave the others’ side. There’s Kenjirou Minami, a co-worker of Yuuri’s with oddly colored hair and no indoor voice, Phichit’s friend Kaya from film studies and Leo’s friend Veronica from dance.

“Seung-Gil couldn’t come?” Guang-Hong asks after introductions and Phichit waves his hand.

“He managed to escape this time, but I _will_ have him here during my spring break party,” Phichit says, determined and clasps his hands. “Anyways! The presents!”

“Phichit, how come we can’t do this when it’s actually Christmas time?” Kaya questions with a raised eyebrow. “You always try to pawn off the presents you don’t like either through this or through Ciao Ciao,” she chastises and Phichit gives a guilty little laugh.

“Ciao Ciao?” Victor asks and Yuuri smiles.

“Professor of ours,” he fills in and Victor nods his head.

“I put a good one in there this time!” Phichit says and rubs his chin. “Although we have one extra present since Victor’s little brother gave too. . .Victor, do you want to pick a present first for him?” Phichit asks. Mila grins.

“Give Yura mine, Victor,” she says and Victor leans in close, inspecting the presents. He doesn’t want to get the extremely large ones that are purposely there to throw you off, then lets his eyes wander to the smaller presents. There’s a little lime green one with a gold ribbon that appears to be safe, so he reaches for that one and puts in his lap.

Since Mila pouts, Victor guesses that’s not her present.

“Alright! Now let’s start counterclockwise sooo, Kaya, you first,” Phichit says and plops down between Mila and Veronica. Kaya sighs and gets down, her hands hovering over Victor’s present and he tenses. He wants _Yuuri_ to pick that one, but it looks like he and Yuuri will be the last ones to pick. Will Yuuri like it? Gah, why is he thinking so much about this? It’s supposed to be _fun_.

He squeezes the present for Yuri in his grasp and Yuuri looks over at him out of the corner of his eye.

“You okay?”

“A-Ah, yeah. The suspense is killing me,” Victor says and Kaya furrows her eyebrows. Her hands move upwards and she plucks a bag up, placing it in her lap.

“Before I begin, no one placed something alive in here like _last time_ , right?” she asks, eyes focused entirely on Minami. The teenager flinches in his spot, twiddling his fingers as he smiles.

“A-Ah, Phichit said to put something funny and. . .ladybugs are harmless, right?” he says.

“One ladybug is, one _thousand_ is a pain in the ass,” Kaya spits and sucks a breath, sticking her hand into the bag to pull out the mass of tissue paper and peer inside. She frowns and pulls out a plastic box, setting the bag to her side as she shows for everyone to see.

It’s a box of clown ornaments.

 _Creepy_ clown ornaments.

Victor hides his snort behind his hand and Yuuri does the same as Kaya narrows her eyes at Phichit’s big smile, like she just _knows_ this one was from him. Phichit takes a quick picture of Kaya’s pitiful face for Instagram, before he gestures for Minami to open the next gift.

Everything falls into a simple routine; someone acts like they’re going to pick Victor’s present and he just _stares_ so hard that his eyes almost pop out of his skull, before they go and pick up another gift and he relaxes against Yuuri’s body until the next person picks.

So far, no one has tried to steal anything yet. Minami opens a large box that has tons of bubble wrap and a shark hat that makes it appear your head is being eaten alive when you wear it, Veronica opens a tiny bag filled with bacon-flavored candy, and Phichit opens a present that is filled with porcelain cat heads. Victor guesses they’re supposed to be paperweights; he also guesses that they must have been the gift Mila wanted Victor to pick for Yuri since she’s beaming with pride.

Mila’s eyes scan over the remaining few presents, rubbing her chin. She reaches for the gift that Yuri gave and pulls it into her lap, picking at the tape around the sides.

“This box is cute,” she says and pries off the lid, tilting over the box to pour out-

Another box.

She frowns, then tries to get the lid off the smaller box that is sealed up with _more_ tape without ruining her manicure. It takes her a couple of seconds, but she eventually gets the lid off to find _another fucking box_.

Phichit already has the phone out and trained on Mila’s face as she gives a huff and smirks.

“This is Yura’s present, isn’t it?” she asks Victor. “I did the exact same thing to him _last_ Christmas,” she chuckles and picks at the sides to get the tape off. Victor smiles, watching as Mila pries off the lid and pulls yet another box from inside.

“This is like ‘box-ception’ or something,” Leo comments, astonished. Guang-Hong is also taking pictures to post on his Instagram, the mess of boxes surrounding Mila as she opens one after another.

“Did he put something good in there?” Yuuri asks Victor and Victor shrugs. His fingers are absently pinching and playing with the material of Yuuri’s sweater, watching as Mila gets to the smallest box there is with tape all over it. She spends a couple of minutes picking at the sides, before she takes the scissors that Phichit offers her and cuts off the rest to get the final lid off.

“. . .Chocolate jelly beans!” Mila announces, showing off the contents. Victor raises his eyebrows in surprise; that’s a surprise since Yuri nagged him into just picking a shitty gift. He honestly thought it would be a roll of toilet paper.

Mila reaches in and pops one into her mouth for a taste.

Her eyes immediately grow wide and she spits the jelly bean into her hand with a gag, choking out broken Russian as she gets to her feet and runs to the bathroom.

Yuuri leans in close to Victor. “What did she say? Is she alright?” he asks worried and Victor nods his head.

“She said something along the lines of ‘you little fuck’,” Victor says with a smile. Phichit picks a jelly bean out from the box to inspect it between his fingers. He slips it past his lips, chewing on it for only a second before he spits it back out and covers his mouth.

“It’s _dog-food_ flavored,” he chokes out, getting up to go to the kitchen to rinse his mouth out with a drink from the fridge.

Yuuri covers his mouth with his palm, eyes crinkling with mirth before he looks up at Victor.

“Your brother has some sense of humor.”

“Yeah, the vindictive kind,” Victor says. He bets that Yuri is probably laughing over dinner now, thinking about the possibility of Phichit or Mila getting a mouthful of dog-food flavored jellybeans.

“Phichit, can we continue?” Leo asks aloud and gets the response of Phichit giving a loud, guttural moan. Leo decides to take the initiative and picks the present wrapped up in brown paper and tied up with a string.

There’s only three more presents left, Victor’s one of the three. If Guang-Hong doesn’t pick it in his turn, or decides to steal from Leo and gives his boyfriend another chance to pick, Yuuri _should_ get his present. He starts to fidget in his spot from the mild excitement.

Leo pulls the string and lets the paper wrapping fall into his lap, turning around what appears to be a jar of peaches. Kaya and Veronica both groan, while Minami places his hands to his cheek and his mouth falls open in wonder.

“Ahhh! Can we share that one?! I want peaches!” Minami cries out, drool already seeping from the corner of his lips.

“Guang-Hong, you’re supposed to bring a lame gift!” Veronica exclaims. Guang-Hong jumps in his spot, twiddling his fingers as Leo gives him a little crooked smile of love.

“H-How did you know it was me?” he quietly asks and Veronica places a hand to her forehead.

“You _always_ bring the nicest gift to these exchanges that everyone steals! For my graduation party, you gifted those chocolate turtles that Yuuri stole from me!” Veronica accuses. Yuuri slumps in his spot on the couch, shielding his eyes from Victor’s smile.

“And Leo’s your boyfriend! You make him sweets all the time!” Kaya complains, shaking the ornaments violently. “Damnit Phichit!” she screams and Phichit slowly strolls back in, sucking on leftover candy canes from Christmas as Mila emerges from the bathroom with her hand over her mouth.

He hands some candy to her and she takes it with murmured thanks, before they both plop down in front of the entertainment system to rejoin the game.

“Your reactions are too funny though, Kaya,” Phichit says and takes another picture of her distraught face to post in the collage he’s putting together of their party. Leo turns over the jar of peaches in his hands.

“I love it,” he says and nuzzles his nose in Guang-Hong’s hair. Guang-Hong laughs and leans into Leo’s hold, giving a lovesick sigh that makes Victor feel a strange mixture of fondness and want. He looks at Yuuri out of the corner of his eye, the skater trying to keep his head from lolling over onto Victor’s shoulder from slight sleepiness.

His eyes are fluttering, long pretty eyelashes captivating Victor enough that he doesn’t realize Guang-Hong has chosen another gift to open. He comes back to reality when he hears Veronica and Kaya groan aloud and glances to see Guang-Hong turning a small mixtape in between his hands, eyes sparkling with delight.

“You two orchestrated getting each other’s presents, didn’t you?” Veronica asks and Guang-Hong shakes his head.

“No, no! I didn’t know! Honest!” Guang-Hong says and Leo scratches the back of his neck, sheepish grin on his lips.

“Well, I _kinda_ knew which one was his,” Leo admits, looking at the jar of peaches. “You were always really bad at wrapping presents,” Leo teases and Guang-Hong huffs. But Leo just nuzzles his chin in his boyfriend’s hair and cuddles his arms around Guang-Hong’s body and he just _melts_ all over again.

“So I guess it’s my turn,” Yuuri says, leaning forward to choose between the only two gifts left. Victor wonders if the other large gift next to his is Yuuri’s, or if it has already been opened and gifted. Maybe the shark hat is from Yuuri’s; it’s a cute idea and a rather pleasing gift that he’s surprised that no one stole. The bacon flavored candy is _weird_ , but it’s harmless.

If Yuuri reaches for the other gift, then Victor will be opening his own present basically. But if Yuuri immediately reaches for _Victor’s_ gift, then that leaves a slight possibility that the last gift is from Yuuri. Yuuri hums, looking between the two before he sighs and pulls Victor’s gift into his lap. He looks over at Victor as he undoes the bow, quirking an eyebrow.

“Is this yours?” he asks, putting the bow off to the side and Victor smiles.

“Maybe~” Victor purrs.

Yuuri looks back at the gift, delicately ripping off the wrapping paper and letting it fall to his feet. Phichit quickly snaps a photo while Mila gives a little knowing look as Yuuri opens the plain box and searches through the pile of tissue paper Victor threw in. He feels his breath still in slight nerves for only a few seconds as Yuuri pulls the gift out, heavy in his hands as he stares at it with wide eyes.

“. . .This isn’t _real_ , is it?” Yuuri asks with a worried smile, turning over a fake urn filled with _something_.

Victor waves his hand. “Of course not~ Rasputin wasn’t even cremated,” Victor says with a laugh, looking at the Sharpie writing along the side that Yuuri’s thumb accidentally smears.

“You and Yura have a _really_ messed up sense of humor, Victor,” Mila comments, leaning on the back of her hands and watches as Yuuri mentally debates on whether or not to open the urn and see just _what_ is it that’s makes it so heavy. Eventually, Yuuri closes his eyes, stills his resolve and twists the lid open.

Yuuri’s left eye peeks, then he takes a good look at the contents. He takes his pointer finger and scoops a little bit of the brown mixture onto his tongue, eyes sparkling at the taste.

“It’s the hot chocolate mix from that little stand at the mall!” Yuuri exclaims, sealing the lid back up of his chocolate urn and holds it tight to his chest. “I _love_ it!” he fawns and looks back down at the urn. “. . .Even though it’s a little morbid.”

Victor laughs and takes the last gift into his lap, undoing the ribbons and tearing into the paper right away. The box feels a bit heavy, but not by much. Maybe just paper? Or just bubble wrap? Clothing maybe. He unfolds the box’s flaps and opens it nice and wide.

He blinks at the contents, smile frozen on his face.

It’s a marshmallow.

A pretty _huge_ marshmallow, wrapped up nice and tight in plastic and an unnatural shade of pink.

He raises the marshmallow out of the box for Phichit to laugh and take a picture of for Instagram. It’s still soft and squishy as Victor sees the indents his fingers leave from squeezing it. This thing is fucking _huge_ , how is he going to eat a _giant_ strawberry marshmallow. Yuuri is giggling next to him, trying to hide his snorts and his laughs behind his hand and failing miserably.

“Why did everyone give stuff you can eat?” Phichit asks and Mila smiles.

“Food is _always_ a good present,” she says, then looks forlornly at the box of dog-food jelly beans. She closes the lid and mumbles a curse under her breath, then turns to Phichit.

“So, what’s next?”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri keeps by Victor’s side for most the night, engaging in small talk when things begin to wind down and lazily picking clumps from Victor’s marshmallow to snack on when the cookies disappear. They opt to sit out and be spectators to most of the games Phichit planned for the night; Victor documents the events to post and tag on Instagram while Yuuri acts as referee and makes things purposelessly more difficult if the game starts taking too long to end. 

(“I’m having a hard time believing you’re not a sadist, my beautiful muse,” Victor says as he watches Yuuri push the Twister spinner to left hand green when _no one_ on the mat can reach that color without knocking someone down in the process.

“Am not,” Yuuri protests and pulls another clump from Victor’s marshmallow.)

When Phichit runs out of games to play and the clock ticks closer to midnight, Victor listens along to Veronica and Kaya chat about their classes for winter session. He once again feels strangely insecure about his age, until Yuuri pushes a cup of freshly made ‘Rasputin ashes’ in a Rubix cube mug and makes him forget in an instant. He focuses his attention on how Yuuri’s cheeks turn rosy and warm with delight as he breathes out a pleasant sigh, the little bit of chocolate at the corner of his mouth that he licks away without a second thought.

Leo puts on some music that shuffles between loud party jams and slow music that is strictly for only him and Guang-Hong to dance to. It’s cute how Guang-Hong has his head rested on Leo’s chest, standing on Leo’s feet as he slowly spins them in a circle in front of the couch.

Victor watches them, his chin resting in his hand. Yuuri is talking to Minami, or rather is on the receiving in of Minami gushing about some new movie coming out in a couple of weeks. Phichit and Mila have started up a game of Heads Up with Veronica and Kaya spectating and laughing when Phichit struggles to get the animal Mila acts out.

. . .Friends can dance.

This won’t startle Yuuri much if he asks for _one_ dance. . .

He’s asked people to dance with him before. . .granted, they were at gay bars and most of the time it was just grinding his ass and crotch against the other person instead of the innocent slow dance Leo and Guang-Hong are doing. Slow dances are. . .fine. He can slow dance.

“Yuuri,” he says and Yuuri looks over at Victor, marshmallow in his lap and one quarter of the way eaten.

“Hmm?” There’s a bit of marshmallow fluff on his cheek. Victor smiles and picks it away.

“Want to dance?” Victor asks, jutting a thumb over at Leo and Guang-Hong. Yuuri blinks, looks at Minami for some reason, then at Victor, then at Guang-Hong and Leo, _then_ at the marshmallow he’s suddenly squishing between his fingers.

“Uh. . .I’m. . .not a good dancer,” Yuuri admits and Victor blinks.

“But you move beautifully on the ice,” Victor brings up and Yuuri flushes.

“Well, that’s different.”

“How so?”

Yuuri’s ears turn red. He pulls his lower lip in between his teeth, trying to think up an excuse.

“. . .Well, I’m on the ice. . .by myself. . .with no one else’s feet to trip over,” Yuuri eventually says. Victor glances down at his feet, knocking his shoes together.

“My feet aren’t big for you to trip over. . .at least, I don’t _think_ so,” Victor says.

Minami balls his hands into tight fists, looking up at Yuuri like he doesn’t know what the _hell_ Yuuri is talking about.

“You’re a really good ballet dancer though!” Minami spills. “When you were practicing in the break room at work, you looked so _pretty!_ ”

“But that’s _different_ ,” Yuuri stresses, cheeks burning. He looks over at Guang-Hong and Leo, in their own little world and arms wound tight around each other to hold close, then looks to Victor.

“I. . .I don’t. . .” Yuuri pulls another piece of marshmallow off and stuffs it into his mouth. He chews, swallows, takes in a deep breath and wipes his hands of sticky marshmallow residue. He gives Minami the half-eaten marshmallow and gets to his feet, placing his hands behind his back and awkwardly rocks back and forth.

“I’m going to apologize to you now for when I inevitably step on your feet,” Yuuri says, and holds out his hand for Victor to take.

Victor smiles, letting Yuuri’s hand slide gently into his own. “Apology pre-accepted,” he says and leads Yuuri over to an empty spot in the living room.

The song that Guang-Hong and Leo are dancing to is now ending and transitions to another slow old song with a trill of the violin and croons of the choir. Yuuri’s eyes immediately go to their feet as Victor takes Yuuri’s hand in his own and rests his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back.

“You lead? Or do I lead?” Yuuri asks Victor’s shoes and Victor smiles.

“I’ll lead,” he murmurs, and he steps forward. Yuuri staggers backwards, stiff and awkward as he tries to adjust his grip in Victor’s hand and his hold of Victor’s shoulder. They step from side to side, off beat and a foot apart from each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Mila is watching them, smiling to herself.

Yuuri looks uncomfortable; if he isn’t staring at the floor, he’s looking over at Guang-Hong and Leo, who still are in their lover’s embrace, and paling at the thought of moving so intimately as they are. Victor feels Yuuri’s hand growing sweaty in his grasp; he hears Yuuri’s breath growing heavy and his hold on Victor’s shoulder is timid.

 

_No, you don’t know the one who dreams of you at night. And longs to kiss your lips, and longs to hold you tight._

“Yuuri,” Victor speaks and Yuuri jumps, eyes shooting up to Victor’s.

“H-Huh?” he stammers, already trying to make his retreat and his hold on Victor loosening. But Victor squeezes his hand and pulls their arms towards their bodies. Victor smiles, gentle, and he begins to step from side to side at a faster pace, but on beat at least.

Yuuri trips over his own feet, not having enough time to look down at Victor’s steps before he looks back up at Victor _insanely_ confused. Victor runs with it, twirling Yuuri outwards, then inwards, then spins them both around and steps away. Yuuri follows the movement and steps back, then forward, then allows Victor to spin him again and he _laughs_.

“What kind of dancing is _this?_ ” he questions in between breathless laughs as Victor pulls him in closer to his body, twisting his hips as Victor sidesteps to the kitchen and dips Yuuri up and down like a yo-yo. His glasses nearly fall off with Victor’s erratic movements, but the tension and nerves on his face are gone as Victor makes the _entire apartment_ their dance floor.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You must have assumed I was a good dancer,” Victor says with a smile and lifts Yuuri just a few inches off the ground to spin in his grasp. Yuuri squeaks and holds to Victor tightly as he lowers him back down, chest to chest and eyes locked only on Victor’s. They skip around the couch and Yuuri has a turn to dip Victor down low to the ground, laughing as Victor struggles more to pull himself back onto his feet.

Victor hears the music in his ears, but it starts to drown and mellow into a simple hum. He dances to the melody of Yuuri’s giggles and the brief hitches in his breath; he stays in tune with the steady beat of their hearts beating against each other.

Victor leads them out of the living room and down the hallway leading to the bedrooms, rocking back and forth and holding Yuuri tighter and tighter against him. Yuuri is laughing so much that he’s starting to become breathless, his feet getting a little sloppy and kicking Victor in the ankles on accident.

But Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice and Victor doesn’t care, bumping against a partially open bedroom door and stepping through the entryway as Yuuri ducks his head downwards and tangles his fingers in the material of Victor’s shirt. Yuuri’s foot slips in between his own and Victor’s left foot catches on Yuuri’s ankle. Yuuri’s arms wind quickly around Victor’s back as he feels himself tipping backwards and Victor’s hand goes to cradle the back of Yuuri’s head.

They trip over each other’s feet and fall hard onto the bedroom floor, Victor’s face landing to the side of Yuuri’s head as Yuuri’s hands tightly grip the back of his shirt. Victor pushes himself up onto his elbows so he isn’t crushing Yuuri, hand still deep in Yuuri’s soft locks.

“Ah. . .sorry. . .” Victor says with a smile. Yuuri looks at him, soft and kind.

“It’s alright. . .” he murmurs and lets his hands slide up from Victor’s back to his cradle his neck for a mere moment, before his hands fall to his sides. Victor holds Yuuri’s gaze for a couple more seconds, before he moves so he isn’t straddling Yuuri any longer. He glances around at the bedroom’s interior, at the small twin bed tucked away in the corner with figure skating posters all over the wall.

“Your bedroom?” Victor inquires and Yuuri nods his head, getting to his knees.

“I would have straightened up in here if I knew we were going to waltz our way inside,” Yuuri says, rubbing the back of his neck. Victor chuckles, getting to his feet to look at the miniature whiteboard above Yuuri’s desk. A calendar is drawn out, holidays in green and their meetings at the ice rinks and Victor’s apartment in red. There’s a little doodle of a face with a heart-shaped mouth and a fringe over their left eye next to the dates and Victor stills for a moment.

“Is this supposed to be me?” Victor asks. Yuuri gets to his feet, cheeks red and hands waving wildly.

“A-Ah, I don’t know! No? I – it’s just –” Yuuri begins to stammer and Victor laughs.

“It’s _cute_ ,” Victor fawns and runs his fingers over his mouth. “Does my mouth really shape a heart when I smile?”

“. . .Sometimes,” Yuuri admits quietly. Victor stands back up straight and places hands on his hips.

“Can I make a doodle of you?” Victor asks and Yuuri blinks.

“Um, I’m going to erase the calendar to write in January anyways. . .” Yuuri starts out and Victor pouts.

“Let me draw the last doodle of the year then!” Victor says. Yuuri closes his eyes and sighs, before he goes to his desk and stands beside Victor. He pulls open a drawer and takes a few markers out to set on the surface. Victor smiles, taking a blue one in his grasp and glancing over at Yuuri.

“Don’t move,” he instructs, and begins to draw the face, round and cute. He draws Yuuri’s eyes big and sparkling and framed by exaggeratedly large glasses, blush marks on his soft cheeks and a happy little smile. He puts extra care into drawing Yuuri’s hair and colors it in blue.

“My eyes don’t look that sparkly,” Yuuri critiques and Victor clicks his tongue, signing his little doodle.

“Yes they do. They’re big and beautiful and always have the prettiest glimmer in them,” Victor explains. He can waste hours speaking on how he loves everything about Yuuri’s eyes; his long eyelashes and the beautiful color of brown that Victor still can’t manage to replicate perfectly in his paintings.

Yuuri shakes his head, folding his hands behind his back as he looks over the calendar dates. Victor does the same, letting his eyes wander over the whiteboard and along the wall. There’s pictures of Yuuri with Phichit at different venues and outings with others. There’s photos of a younger, smaller and rounder Yuuri on the ice and cuddling a little puppy that looks like Makkachin when he was a pup, and photos of past figure skating competitions where Yuuri stands at the top of the podium.

His eyes go to Yuuri’s bed, neatly made with blue bedsheets and cream-colored pillows, then to his bedside stand and sees the purikura they took at the mall attached to framed photo of Yuuri sitting with his family smiling happily.

Victor walks over and picks up the frame in his hands. “This is a lovely picture,” Victor says, pinching the purikura strip between his thumb and pointer.

“My family photo or the purikura of us?” Yuuri asks. Victor sets the photo frame back down, turning to look at Yuuri sitting on the bed.

. . .This is the first time they’ve been in a bedroom alone, Victor realizes.

His cheeks flush with heat and he runs a hand through his hair, quelling the sudden rush of thoughts that involve Yuuri and Victor in the comfort of warm bed and a warm embrace.

“Both of course,” he says and _no_ , his voice isn’t quivering now. He’s not getting nervous. He’s not panicking. Why should he be panicking when nothing is happening and the door is wide open for _anyone_ to see? Yuuri looks down at his hands resting in his lap, biting his lower lip.

“Um. . .so I. . .wanted to give you something,” Yuuri says and rises to his feet. He walks over to Victor and rests his hands over Victor’s shoulders, steering him to the bed and pushes him down to sit at the foot of the bed. His hands slide from Victor’s shoulders and he sucks in a breath.

“Close your eyes,” Yuuri instructs. Victor swallows, aware that his lips are _very_ dry.

He closes his eyes like Yuuri asks, listening to the loud thumping of his heart. He takes in deep breaths to calm his nerves, drumming his fingers over his thighs. Yuuri wouldn't. . .would he? His tongue runs over his lower lip, wetting them just enough. He hears Yuuri pull something that sounds like a drawer open, fumble through its contents with shaky hands before he slides the drawer closed again.

Something gets rested onto his lap and his eyebrows furrow.

“Okay, open your eyes,” Yuuri says, voice soft in Victor’s left ear.

Victor opens his eyes slowly.

Yuuri isn’t in front of him with those soft lips of his awaiting a kiss, like Victor allowed his imagination to run away to for those few moments. Victor turns his gaze down to his lap, seeing a large box wrapped up in green paper and tied up with a red ribbon positioned over his thighs. Yuuri is beside him, head turned away from Victor’s confused gaze and twisting the bottom of his sweater in between his fingers.

“. . .Is this another marshmallow?” Victor asks. The box is big enough for it to be another giant marshmallow; he’ll have to force some of it on Yuri if that’s the case. Yuuri chokes out a little laugh. He has a smile on, filled with nerves but also with that familiar warmth they share.

“Open it and find out,” Yuuri says, steeping his fingers.

Victor nods his head, pulling the ribbon off first and then tearing off the wrapping paper. He opens the clean white box and looks down at the contents. It. . .looks like Makkachin. Victor takes the stuffed poodle into his hands and looks at its shiny black eyes and felt tongue sticking out of the corner of its mouth. The fur color isn’t exactly the same as Makkachin’s; it’s a little bit more of a honey brown shade, like Yuuri’s eyes when the sunlight hits at the perfect angle. The fur’s texture is curly to Victor’s touch, nice and soft.

He runs his fingers over the back of the plush and finds a large hole big enough to fit a tissue box inside. He dips his fingers inside and feels around the soft interior lining, before he pulls his hand free and looks over at Yuuri hiding half of his face behind his fingers.

They stare at each other for a few moments, Yuuri’s skin getting redder and redder as Victor’s smile stretches so far across his face it begins to hurt.

“T-There’s more in there so. . .” Yuuri points out and Victor looks back in the box. Yuuri’s right; underneath the tissue box is some fabric that Victor pulls out and unfolds to reveal a navy-blue smock with a little poodle patch stitched into the right sleeve.

A few seconds later, Victor realizes the sound of awe and wonder is coming from his _own_ lips.

Yuuri’s face is now fully in his hands as Victor eagerly gets up and slips the smock on. It ends mid-thigh and there’s more than enough pockets for Victor to keep any brushes or supplies on him. It’s also soft to the touch too; he runs his fingers over the pearl white buttons down the center of his stomach and around his collar.

“Yuuri,” Victor calls out and Yuuri peeks from behind his fingers. Victor holds his arms out. “How do I look?” he asks, like a child waiting for approval and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“. . .You look great,” Yuuri breathes, finally pulling his hands from his face to rest in his lap. “I. . .I um. . .well, I noticed that whenever you paint or you use charcoal, you always wiped your hands on your jeans and dirty them,” Yuuri explains, looking down at the tissue holder beside him, “and you catch colds and get stuffy noses, so I thought maybe having a tissue holder that looked like Makkachin would be. . .cute?”

He twiddles his thumbs. “. . .Do you like them?” he asks and Victor gets to his knees in front of Yuuri. He opens his arms wide and pulls Yuuri into his hug, tucking his face into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri gives a startled gasp, but his body eases into Victor’s hold and his arms go around his back.

“Of _course_ I do,” Victor says and pulls back to gently tap his forehead against Yuuri’s. He laughs and pulls back, holding Yuuri by his shoulders. “This is the best gift I’ve received,” he says in earnest, pulling his sleeve to look at the poodle patch. Yuuri looks at it too, smiling.

“My mother helped stitch that on,” Yuuri points out and Victor turns to Yuuri with big eyes.

“So that means you talked about me with _your_ mother?” Victor asks. Yuuri flushes red, averting his eyes.

“Well, my sister runs the family Instagram and she’s seen you popping up in my pictures every now and then. . .it’s like the same conversations you probably had about your mother about me,” Yuuri says, distracting himself with the mess Victor made of opening the present. Victor _highly_ doubts that Yuuri’s parents are already planning the birth of their future grandchild like Victor’s mother is, but he doesn’t bother to inquire anymore.

He helps Yuuri clean up the wrapping paper and takes off the smock to place back in the box along with the Makkachin tissue holder to keep them from getting misplaced. Both sit on the bed together, Victor staring at his thoughtful gift from Yuuri in his lap with the _stupidest_ of grins, while Yuuri has his eyes cast down to the floor and a soft smile on his lips.

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . . _Oh god, Victor’s such an asshole!_

He smacks the box against his forehead and groans.

Yuuri gave him a Christmas gift with so much thought and care and _detail_ and Victor is too big of a coward to even gift him _mittens_. He can’t even pass off the White Elephant gift as Yuuri’s Christmas gift because _anyone_ could have gotten that gift. Yuuri may have been at the front of his mind when he thought of the idea for the gift, but he didn’t put that much thought into giving a gift that _only_ Yuuri will love.

The mittens are still in his art bag at home, wrapped up tight in a felt bag. He thought about giving Yuuri the mittens this evening, but choked at the last minute and left them behind.

“V-Victor? What’s wrong?” Victor hears Yuuri ask and he pulls the box down.

“I’m sorry,” Victor apologizes, “I left your Christmas present at home,” he admits.

Yuuri blinks.

“You didn’t have to get me a Christmas present-” Yuuri says with a little smile and Victor shakes his head.

“No, I _wanted_ to give you a Christmas present for the longest but I was acting so _stupid about it_ and,” Victor huffs and leans in close. “And I’m going to give it to you. . .can you come to my place Saturday evening? Like our usual sessions?” Victor asks. Yuuri’s eyes widen and he swallows, looking down at Victor’s hands clutching the box firmly in his grasp.

“I. . .” Yuuri begins, then closes his mouth. He looks back up into Victor’s eyes and nods his head, cheeks rosy. “Okay!” he exclaims and Victor beams.

“Great! I’ll cook dinner,” Victor says, taking Yuuri’s hands into his own. Yuuri chuckles, watching as Victor turns his hands over and places his thumb over Yuuri’s pulse point.

“Is my Christmas gift a fire extinguisher?” Yuuri asks and Victor sticks his tongue out. Yuuri laughs as Victor twines their fingers together.

“Is it. . .the ashes of another figure in Russian history?”

Victor shakes his head and Yuuri hums.

“Are you finally giving me custody of Makkachin? I’ll be a good Papa and let you visit on weekends,” Yuuri says and Victor laughs.

“Not in a million years!” Victor says and wraps his arms around Yuuri. Yuuri braces his hand on Victor’s shoulder as Victor yanks them both down on the bed, grinning as his hands go down to tickle Yuuri’s sides.

“You’re never stealing Makkachin away from me. No matter _how beautiful_ you are,” Victor says, swinging a leg over Yuuri’s lap so he can’t escape the tickle assault. Yuuri thrashes underneath him, tears burning at the corner of his eyes as he squeaks and laughs and tries to push Victor’s hands away.

“Say it! Say you’ll never have Makkachin!” Victor says and Yuuri’s head tilts back, exposing his flushed neck and bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Hahaha, wait, no, I – haahaha, stop!” Yuuri cries out, glasses slipping off his face as his head shakes from side to side. “Okay, okay! I won’t steal Makkachin away – ahahah! No, not there! _Victor - ahahaha!_ ” Yuuri catches Victor’s hands, twining their fingers together. Victor leans his weight into his hands and pushes forward so their hands are locked tight above Yuuri’s head and-

Oh.

Yuuri catches his breath, cheeks flushed and hot with eyelashes all a flutter. Victor feels how the weight in his knees pinned to the side of Yuuri’s hips sink into his mattress. Yuuri’s sweater has ridden up in the tussle, exposing his stomach and the curve of his hips. Yuuri’s breathing slows, eyes watching Victor for his next move.

But Victor is _frozen_.

He feels heat beginning to pool between his legs as his brain tries and fails to sort through all the thoughts running at high speed. Yuuri is so _beautiful_ , but Victor’s skin prickles diferently at the sight of Yuuri underneath him with bedsheets framing his head. Yuuri’s chest is rising and falling with shallow breaths, and his eyes are hazed over with something smoldering deepdeep down that’s hidden by the shiny glimmer.

Yuuri’s tongue runs over his bottom lower lip, quick and fleeting, and Victor feels the guttural groan escape from his lips faster than he can stop.

Yuuri’s hands begin to tremble in Victor’s hold and he swallows. “. . .Victor?” his voice asks, quiet and almost faint to Victor’s ears. Victor’s emotions are swirling like a hurricane in his chest and making his head _ache_. He wants to kiss Yuuri. In the past, Victor would already be kissing his lover senseless, hands snaking under their clothes to find the spot that makes them pant hot and heavy over his tongue. But Yuuri. . .he _doesn’t know what to fucking do right now._

“Victor?” Yuuri asks again, and his hand begins to slip out of Victor’s hold. Victor squeezes Yuuri’s hands tighter to keep them still, and Yuuri tenses. The beautiful smolder in Yuuri’s doe eyes starts to dim, concern staring back into Victor’s eyes. “V-Victor-”

“Yuuri! The ball is dropping!” Minami’s voice screeches _very loud_.

Yuuri suddenly finds his strength and shoots upwards, ramming his forehead against Victor’s faster than the artist can move back and out of the way. Yuuri turns to the doorway, then turns back to Victor, one hand over his forehead while the other goes to his mouth to muffle his surprised gasp.

“I-I’m so sorry!” Yuuri apologizes and Victor holds his forehead. Victor looks over to the doorway, seeing Minami standing in the doorway of Yuuri’s bedroom with his mouth open wide and blush across his face. Behind him, Phichit is reaching to grab Minami by his shoulder.

“Ah, we’ll meet you out in the living room!” Phichit says, then not so quietly scolds Minami for ‘ruining the moment’. Yuuri’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, looking back to Victor who is now sliding off the bed and leaning up against the wall.

Victor pulls his hand back, feeling a dull sting in the center of his forehead. There’s a red bruising across Yuuri’s, ignoring how tousled Yuuri’s hair looks and how disheveled his sweater became. Yuuri gets to his feet, hands hiding his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I – I didn’t mean – I – do you need some ice?” Yuuri stammers and Victor closes his eyes.

“No, I’m fine,” he murmurs, tilting his head down as he rubs away the headache.

What the hell was he going to do just now?

Even more concerning, why does he feel he wouldn’t have stopped?

He doesn’t have much time to think, since he feels a finger poke where his hair parts and looks back up at Yuuri’s face.

“We’re going to miss the ball drop,” Yuuri says with a smile, like that moment on the bed is now water under the bridge.

He looks down at Victor’s hand and reaches for it, then pauses just as his fingertips brush along the side of Victor’s hand. But Victor’s hand immediately curls around Yuuri’s, meeting him halfway. Yuuri smiles at their hands, then up at Victor. He begins to pull him away from the wall without another word, out of his bedroom and into the living room where everyone is crowding around the television with noise makers and confetti poppers at the ready.

They come in at five, count down from four, their hands squeeze tight at three, Victor’s eyes look to Yuuri at two, then down at his lips at one.

“Happy New Year!” everyone screams and fire off the confetti and streamers. Mila throws her arms around Victor’s shoulders and pulls him down for a kiss on the cheek, while Phichit pulls Yuuri in and kisses him on the forehead with a laugh. Leo begins to smother Guang-Hong with kisses all along his freckled face, while Kaya and Veronica fire streamers at each other and Minami rapidly begins to fire off confetti poppers one after the other.

“Happy New Year, everybody!” Phichit shouts and everyone yells in agreement.

Yuuri rubs at his eyes, squinting at the television.

“. . .I just realized I left my glasses on the bed,” he says with a sigh. Victor chuckles, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. His thumb runs over the back of Yuuri’s hand and the skater glances up at him. He smiles, head tilting to the side.

They stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments, then Victor drops his head down just a few inches to press a kiss into the crown of Yuuri’s head. He hears the hitch of surprise in Yuuri’s throat, and Victor closes his eyes, allowing himself to just indulge in this one selfish desire of his and let his nose nestle deep in Yuuri’s soft hair.

He pulls away, trying to keep his wants and true adoration hidden by a friendly smile on his lips.

“Happy New Year, Yuuri,” Victor says and Yuuri blinks. Another stare down ensues between them, waiting for the other’s reaction. Victor thinks that he’ll be the one to just laugh and separate the two of them, to release his hand and head over to take some poppers from Minami and sprinkle confetti all over Mila’s head.

But Yuuri rocks forward onto his toes, and presses a peck to Victor’s cheek.

"Happy New Year, Victor," Yuuri says, eyes the brightest Victor's ever seen.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, Vitya~ you should have brought your boyfriend here with you,” his mother whines. “I want to meet him. When can I meet him?” she asks as Victor pours himself a glass of wine. Sure it’s one in the morning, but it’s not like there’s ever a _bad time_ to have a drink. 

“ _Soon_ , Mama. At the exhibition,” he tells her and looks over at Yuri opening up his White Elephant gift.

He viciously rips off the green paper and gold ribbon, tossing it into the trash as he opens the little box. His nose scrunches upwards in annoyance, pulling out a large pink brick of soap bigger that is probably bigger than Victor’s fist.

“. . .There’s money in the center,” Yuri says, straining his eyes. The bill is balled up nice and tight; Victor can’t even tell what the amount is. He laughs, and raises his glass in a toast.

“Then I guess you’ll have to work to get your gift!” Victor chirps and Yuri growls.

“This is fucking _stupid!_ ” he hisses and Victor clucks his tongue.

“Maybe you can start now by washing out that mouth of yours~” Victor purrs and takes a sip of his drink, looking down at the photo between his fingers.

It was underneath the smock in the white box and under a thin veil of tissue paper; Yuuri’s first Instagram selfie with Victor in physical form. Signed on the back is the date the picture was taken and a little message in blue ink.

 

_Hope we keep making memories like this – Yuuri_

He’s kissed Yuuri’s words about three times since discovering the photo, but it never hurts to do it _once more_.

“Oooh, this is so cute!” their mother says, taking the block of soap from Yuri’s grasp to turn between her fingers. She laughs and shakes the soap, as if the money lodged deep inside is going to somehow move. “This is such a nice present. You have such creative friends, Vitya~”

“You can have it. I’m not going to waste my time with that crap,” Yuri grumbles, rising to his feet. “I’m going to bed,” he spits and Victor raises his glass again.

“Happy New Year!” he shouts.

“Shut up, you drunkard!” Yuri yells back and stomps up the stairs to his bedroom, making a show of slamming his door extra hard to show that he is going to bed irritated. Victor gives a little sigh.

“Well he _said_ the present is supposed to be terrible,” Victor says with a shrug. His mother doesn’t seem to think so.

“Ooh, they even carved their name in the side right here,” she says and squints her teal eyes, “. . .’Yuri’?” she says and Victor’s eyes widen.

“Can I see that?” he asks and she hands it over, letting his fingers slide against the mini engraving along the smooth edge. It’s very small and almost unnoticeable, but he recognizes the carved signature as his beloved muse’s. He smiles, handing it back to his mother.

“It’s from your ‘future son-in-law’,” Victor teases and his mother gasps, before her smile shapes – huh, maybe he got that heart-shape smile from her.

“He’s so cute, Vitya~ oh, but are you sure I can have it?”

“It was supposed to be for Yura, who gave it to you. It’s alright,” Victor says and looks back at the photo in his hand. This photo is already _plenty_. She hums.

“Well, now I _have_ to give him a gift!” she exclaims and gasps. “I can give him a photo album to put my grandchildren’s pictures in!”

“ _Yeaahhh_ , let’s not do that, Mama,” Victor says with a nervous laugh. She pouts, closes her eyes and thinks for a few seconds, before she hums and smiles.

“Then a sweater! To go with your mittens! Did he like them, Vitya? He _must_ since he made this cute gift!”

“Mama, that gift doesn’t have anything to do with the mittens. . .and I’ll give them to him later,” Victor explains. She blinks, then sighs.

“ _Vityaaa~_ ” she drawls, “I thought you loved your boyfriend. Why are you acting so unsure? Your Papa and I fell in love at first sight, had two sweet children, and been together until he departed from us. We _never_ once doubted our love for each other,” she fawns and Victor rests his chin in his hand.

“Mama, you and Papa had a _unique_ love story,” Victor says, to put it lightly. It was the kind that involves his mother getting pregnant with Victor at only sixteen, her parents forbidding her from ever seeing his father, his father _literally_ breaking into her house so they can run away and elope, and both happy in love but struggling to get by because they were too stubborn to accept the help from their parents that _eventually_ came for Victor’s sake.

Mila loves hearing the story of his parents’ romance over dinners. Yuri just complains that everyone in his family is ‘way too fucking dramatic about love’.

“You never were like this with your past boyfriends,” she says, “You always seemed to have a new one every time you came for dinner. And now you won’t even let me see this current boyfriend,” she muses and puffs her cheeks, “He must be special for you to want to keep him all to yourself like this~”

“He _is_ special. That’s _why_ I want to just take it slow, Mama,” Victor explains, rubbing his thumb along the glass.

“I really ruin things without even trying at times. . .I don’t want to hurt him, Mama. I _really_ love him, and I want to make things _perfect_ for him,” Victor says with earnest.

She hums, then pats Victor’s head in that way she always does. Usually, it’s when he says something stupid.

“Love isn’t perfect, Vitya. Just so you know,” she says with a smile, and skips away to the kitchen to try out her new soap brick.

Victor stares at her retreating figure. Then, he quietly pours himself another glass.

 

* * *

 

 

“Aww, he didn’t like it?” Yuuri laughs, taking the offered beer from Victor as the artist rounds the couch and plops down beside him. 

“My mother is making good use of it. She loves how it smells like lilies, by the way,” Victor says and Yuuri smiles, taking a sip from his bottle and slumps against the cushion.

“So. . .can you tell me what my present is now?” Yuuri asks and grins. “It wasn’t that glass pan, wasn’t it?”

“How was I supposed to know you’re not supposed to put cold water in a hot glass pan?” Victor asks and Yuuri laughs. He takes Victor’s right hand, inspecting the bandages all over Victor’s fingers and palm he had to treat earlier.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?” Yuuri asks and Victor hums.

“Well the both of us screaming made the pain go away quicker if you ask me,” Victor says with a smile and Yuuri scoffs.

Victor pulls his hand from Yuuri’s, then moves it to gently cup Yuuri’s cheek. He frowns and sighs; it doesn’t feel the same with all these bandages getting in the way of Yuuri’s soft skin.

Yuuri pulls Victor’s hand down, playing with the Band-Aid around Victor’s thumb. “I’m concerned how you managed to survive for so long with all these cooking mishaps happening,” Yuuri teases and Victor takes a sip of his beer in silent defiance. He lets Yuuri run fingers over his open palm, gentle and soothing, then hisses when Yuuri presses into a still sore wound. Yuuri jumps, eyes shooting back to look up at Victor as he releases his hold on Victor’s hand.

“S-Sorry!” he stammers and Victor shakes his head.

“It’s okay. . .so, your present,” Victor glances down at the bag at his feet, waiting to be opened. He sets his beer on the coffee table and looks to Yuuri, taking his beer to set beside his own. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” he instructs.

Yuuri closes his eyes and does as Victor says. Victor swallows, licking his lips. He takes a swig of beer as a sort of power up for confidence, then opens the bag and sets the mittens on his lap. He takes the right mitten and slowly slips it on Yuuri’s hand. It. . .doesn’t look _too_ awkward. It looks like Yuuri has a sock puppet on but it doesn’t look. . .horrible? He takes the left mitten and – fuck, he can’t get it pass his thumb. He thought he made these things the same size!

“Ah,” Victor begins, totally _lame_ , “tuck your thumb in a bit?”

Yuuri does and Victor _forces_ it over Yuuri’s fist. Yuuri furrows his eyebrows.

“Can I open my eyes now?” he asks, unsure.

“. . .Sure,” Victor says, then proceeds to finish off his beer bottle in hopes of drowning himself before Yuuri opens his eyes.

Yuuri lets his eyes open slowly, inspecting the mittens over his hands. He wriggles his left hand inside the mitten, tugging on the cuff to give some room to straighten out his fingers. He turns his hands over, looking at the crude stitching of a pattern Victor gave up halfway through and tried to fix with a _completely_ different pattern.

Yuuri brings his hands to his cheeks and lets the material rub against his skin. He turns to Victor, who is holding his empty beer bottle by his fingers and is trying to think of how to say that these mittens are a joke, he’s sorry, and he’s going to buy Yuuri a _diamond_.

“They’re so _soft_ ,” Yuuri fawns and buries his face into his mitten clad hands. “And _warm_ ,” he mewls.

Victor always thinks he can’t love Yuuri _more_.

Yet, he does anyway.

Yuuri laughs and looks to Victor amazed. “I never received a homemade gift from anyone other than my parents,” Yuuri says and places his hands to his chest, just above his heart. “I love them, Victor. I _really_ do,” he beams.

“. . .Even though your left hand is probably stuck in a karate chop position while wearing them?” Victor asks and Yuuri hums.

“It’ll stretch with use. And I _definitely_ will use them,” Yuuri says, resting his hands in his lap. Victor smiles, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“That’s. . .that’s great,” he exhales and Yuuri nods his head.

“Yeah. It’s _neat_ ,” Yuuri chirps.

“Do you just retain every embarrassing thing I’ve said or done in that beautiful head of yours?”

“They happen so rarely. I can’t help it,” Yuuri says, cheeks tinting red at the compliment and also in amusement. Victor places a hand to his forehead and sighs.

“Then I’ll have to remember to be flawless around you since it appears you’re _always_ watching. . .though I can’t _blame you_ for it,” Victor says and Yuuri uses his perfectly posed left hand to gently karate chop Victor in the chest.

“Shut up~” Yuuri laughs and Victor smiles. Yuuri sighs and gets to his feet, looking at Victor’s clock.

“I should get home. It’s getting late,” Yuuri muses and Victor clenches his hands – well, his uninjured hand – into a fist. He hates that he feels so _desperate_ for Yuuri to be by his side and at the same time, so scared of holding him too close too soon. He hates that Yuuri holds this unknown power over Victor that makes him feel like he is drowning on air with just a _look_.

“Or you can. . .hang out and we can do something?” Victor asks and Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

“What do you have in mind?” Yuuri asks and Victor rubs the back of his neck.

“. . .I have beer. . .we can play a game?” he suggests and Yuuri hums, letting his gaze go upwards to the ceiling like he’s considering it. Victor decides to continue. “We can play ‘Never Have I Ever’? Or quote-along or something?” he says, Yuuri tilting his head from side to side.

“. . .Okay. . .quote-along. . .just a few drinks,” Yuuri says, and sits back down, determined glint in his eyes. “I’ll let you know, Phichit’s a film major and we’ve seen _a lot_ of movies _with_ rewatches thrown in. So, if you want to back out now-”

Victor ‘pffts’. “We’ll see how good your movie quoting is. Drink every flubbed line?”

Yuuri holds his ‘karate hand’ out to Victor to shake.

“It’s _on_.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Both pilots?_ ” 

“ _Can you fly this airplane and land it?_ ”

“ _Surely you can’t be serious._ ”

“ _I **am** serious, and don’t call me Shirley!_”

“Victor, you weren’t supposed to say that-”

“Ah! Missed a line~” Victor purrs. He takes a swig from his own bottle since he flubbed on purpose, and Yuuri drinks as well. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are glazed over, tipsy but not fully drunk. Victor is the same. Since he still has his shirt and pants on, he isn’t _that_ drunk. Not yet at least.

He _does_ have Yuuri pulled up against him in his usually ‘clingy drunk’ fashion though. Both of them are curled up in the corner of the couch while the movie plays on the television. Beside the couch, Makkachin gnaws on a bone for his movie snack.

Yuuri hiccups. “Um. . . _well I’ve flew single-engine fighters in the Air Force, but this plane has four engines. It’s an entirely different kind of flying. . .all together!_ ” he recites.

Victor tilts his head down, looking straight into Yuuri’s glassy eyes.

“ _It’s an entirely different kind of flying_. . .you were supposed to say it too,” Victor says, tapping Yuuri’s nose.

“Nuh-uh,” Yuuri says, but drinks anyways. He licks his lips and giggles, covering his hand with his mouth and tucking his head in the crook of Victor’s neck. “What’s the next line?” he slurs.

Victor starts playing with Yuuri’s hair, pinching a lock between his bandaged thumb and pointer. “Hmm?”

“The next _line_. . .drink,” Yuuri says and they do, for no other reason other than to drink. Yuuri stretches out his legs as Victor begins to nuzzle his nose into Yuuri’s hair, breathing him in and exhaling warmth.

“Uh. . . _they bought their tickets, they knew what they were getting into. I say let ‘em crash!_ ” Victor proclaims and raises his bottle to the ceiling in a toast. Yuuri begins to laugh into Victor’s neck.

“We’re not even _at_ that part yet,” he corrects, one hand clinging to a bottle of beer while the other tangles in Victor’s shirt. Victor laughs and goes back to nuzzling his nose into Yuuri’s hair.

“Who cares~ I won anyways.”

“You did _not_ ,” Yuuri corrects and points at the mess of bottles on the coffee table, his mittens resting neatly on the edge. “Like. . . _half_ of those are yours,” he protests and Victor clicks his tongue.

“Oh no, no, _no_ , my beautiful muse. That’s _your_ half,” he says and Yuuri huffs.

“We should have played a different game,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. He turns to look at the clock, straining to see the time in the dimly lit room. “Ugh, it’s so _laate_ ,” Yuuri complains, dropping his face into Victor’s chest. His breath is warm and boozy against the material of Victor’s shirt. Victor didn’t actually count how many bottles Yuuri had. Maybe one more than whatever ‘few’ he promised.

“What game should we have played?” Victor asks and Yuuri shrugs. Well, as best as he can while he’s slumped against Victor like a ragdoll.

“I don’t know. . .something that I’ll win,” Yuuri blurts, shameless.

Maybe because he’s drunk does Victor find Yuuri’s ‘sore loser’ trait endearing. It could also be because he’s _Yuuri_. Maybe both.

Yuuri pushes himself up and away from Victor, stretching his hands over his head.

“I need to call Phichit,” he says and tries to get to his feet. His knees knock together for a few seconds, reminiscent of a lamb learning how to walk. He plops back down on the couch and crawls back into Victor’s arms as sluggishly as he left.

Yuuri answers Victor’s unasked question with “Blegh, I’ll call him after the movie ends.”

The game is long forgotten about and the focus on the movie gets pushed to the back of Victor’s mind. He busies himself with Yuuri’s hair and the material of his shirt, letting his hands wander freely. Yuuri’s breathing is deep and slow, eyes fluttering in a haze. They finish some more beers to add to the pile, just enough so that they both begin to stink of alcohol.

“Twenty questions,” Yuuri says suddenly. He doesn’t wait for Victor to respond. “How many lovers have you had?” Yuuri asks.

Victor tilts his head down, confused by the sudden curiosity. Yuuri is looking at him, waiting for an answer. Victor takes another drink and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“A couple,” he answers. He’s sure there’s a set number, but he never likes to think about that kind of thing anyways. Yuuri doesn’t look satisfied with the answer, but he just offers up another hiccup instead of protest. Victor begins to trace figure eights in the small of Yuuri’s back.

“How many people have you kissed in your life?” Victor asks.

“A couple,” Yuuri says with the same distant tone Victor had.

Victor waits.

“. . .Three,” Yuuri eventually responds, quieter, embarrassed.

“Who?”

“It’s my turn,” Yuuri says and presses himself up onto his elbows. His glasses slip down his nose and Victor straightens them. Yuuri mumbles thanks and tries to think of a question.

“Who was your first kiss?” Yuuri finally thinks up, his leg sliding over Victor’s lap to straddle him.

“A guy I had no business kissing in the first place,” Victor says, chuckling at the memory of his sixteen-year-old self. “He had a girlfriend, and I thought for _some_ stupid reason that I was _cool_ and _bad_ for going around her back with him. . .god, I was a little shit,” Victor exhales and looks to Yuuri.

He can smell the alcohol on Yuuri’s tongue, intermingling with the gum Yuuri chewed moments before and already spat out. Their faces are _far_ too close. But Victor ignores the rationality telling him to push Yuuri back. This is fine.

“Who are the three you’ve kissed?” Victor asks and Yuuri giggles, the sound making Victor’s skin tingle.

“First was. . .in middle school. Yuko invited me to a party and we played spin the bottle. It wasn’t really a kiss, I kind of just slammed my mouth onto the girl that got picked. Really tight-lipped and it only lasted a second,” Yuuri explains.

Victor’s hands are in Yuuri’s shirt, lightly tracing up and down Yuuri’s spine. This is fine, Victor repeats in his head.

“Then. . .it was a guy in high school. He was alright, but neither of us knew what we were doing so I can’t say I enjoyed it. He had a _lot_ of saliva in his kiss,” Yuuri admits. He shudders and breathes out a whimper when Victor’s squeezes the back of his thigh.

Yuuri’s hand cradles Victor’s face, timid and gentle. His eyes are dark, no longer holding that beautiful shimmer. Victor can see his own eyes reflected in them. They’re just as dark, as _hungry_. But this is _fine_.

“And. . .the third time was a girl I kissed at my first college party ever. I don’t even remember it that well, just that she tasted like peach schnapps,” Yuuri hums. He presses his forehead against Victor’s and gives a sorry laugh. Yuuri’s too warm against him, too soft and too relaxed. This isn’t fine. Victor needs to stop. He shouldn’t be doing this.

“I’m so _pathetic_ ,” Yuuri breathes over Victor’s mouth. He’s leaning down, eyes slowly closing and fingers sliding to tangle in Victor’s hair. He needs to stop. He needs to push away. He needs to stop pulling Yuuri _tighter_ against his body. This is wrong. This isn't  _right_.

Yuuri’s lips rest over Victor’s, feeling just as soft as Victor imagined they would. His tongue slides into Victor’s mouth with ease shortly after with a heavy exhale.

Victor stops caring.

Victor’s had these types of kisses before. They follow the same movements that he’s doing with Yuuri, but more frantic, _more unstable_. He flips Yuuri and presses him down into the cushions of the couch, wedging his knee between Yuuri’s legs. His hands roam everywhere without any purpose. He claws at Yuuri’s hips, his shirt, tangles fists in Yuuri’s hair, pulls Yuuri’s face forward so he can kiss him _deeper_.

Yuuri’s chokes out a gasp when Victor pulls on Yuuri’s lower lip with his teeth. He breathes something out, but Victor is already kissing along Yuuri’s face and down his neck. There’s a beauty mark just below Yuuri’s Adam’s apple that he kisses and bites at, then he sucks at a spot along his jaw. He’s wanted this for _so_ long; he feels a surge of satisfaction as Yuuri’s skin blooms red in the dark.

Yuuri breathes out Victor’s name, and hands are clutching at his shoulders. They’re trembling, but Victor doesn’t think much of it.

Victor’s hands pull Yuuri’s shirt upwards, kissing down Yuuri’s chest in a frenzy. His hands hold Yuuri by his hips, rubbing his thumbs into Yuuri’s hipbones as he kisses down to his navel. There’s another hitch in Yuuri’s voice, a word too faint for Victor to understand clearly whimpering out.

He’s missed this feeling of having someone beneath him, moaning and breathing and twisting in his hold. His skin is hot with lust, fueled by alcohol. He explores the curves of Yuuri’s body with his hands, running up and down Yuuri’s sides. His hand slips in between Yuuri’s legs, clamping down too tight on his right thigh as he pushes Yuuri’s legs open and-

“ _Wait_ ,” Yuuri breathes out. Victor moves to kiss him again, but pauses when he takes a good look at Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri’s eyes are no longer clouded in a haze of alcohol. They’re wide and confused, like he just woke up from a dream and doesn’t understand how he got up under Victor with his shirt pulled up to his armpits. His chest is stiff and his breathing is shallow. His lips are twisted, open to form a sob or a plea, but no words come out.

“I. . .” Yuuri chokes out, hands going to cover his mouth. Victor sees his eyes reflected in Yuuri’s, fogged over with lust and want and _stupidity_. The illusion of Yuuri, alluring and sexual and alcohol-tasting kisses, melts away in a matter of seconds. What remains is Yuuri, scared and confused and trembling, trying to keep the tears brimming at the corners of his eyes from spilling down his reddened face.

Victor’s tongue feels too heavy in his mouth to speak.

“I-I’m sorry,” Yuuri’s voice trembles out, unsure. “I can do this. I just. . .it’ll be my first time, so if it’s not good. . .” Yuuri’s breathing begins to quicken and he covers his face, trying to still his nerves.

_He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love and have someone love him._

Yuuri pulls his hands away. “I want to do this,” he says, but his eyes are terrified. His body is rigid and the tears are still there, waiting to fall.

 _If you try and take advantage of that, and push him into doing something he doesn’t **want**_. . .

“I-I want to do this, Victor,” Yuuri repeats for his own ears rather than Victor’s. He’s trying so hard not to break under Victor’s gaze. Yuuri’s too embarrassed to turn back, but he’s too scared to continue without Victor’s guidance. Every tremble screams he doesn’t know what to do right now. Every nervous bat of his eyelashes say he’s not _ready_ , that this is going too fast and he doesn’t think he can handle this.

 _If you want this, I want this_ , Yuuri’s eyes speak to Victor.

 _I’ll do this if you want me to,_ Yuuri’s lips try to say.

 _I can do this, I’ll try my best, so please don’t go,_ Yuuri’s hand in Victor’s shirt _pleads_.

. . .Oh god, what is he _doing?_

Victor pulls away from Yuuri, putting space in between them. Yuuri sits upright, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry,” Yuuri apologizes and Victor closes his eyes, putting his face in his hands.

“You don’t have nothing to be sorry about,” Victor says, quiet and moot, and gets to his feet.

“I can do it-” Yuuri begins, but Victor shakes his head.

“No. . .Yuuri, I’m sorry, I need a moment-”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks and _god_ , he sounds so hurt. He sounds so confused and Victor can’t even _look_ at him. What the fuck was he going to _do_ to him had he not came to his senses? How could he have let this happen in the first place? Because he’s selfish? Because he wanted to see how far he can get until it becomes too much to swallow?

Because maybe the alcohol made him realize that Yuuri is just too good for him. Sooner or later he’s going to fuck everything up, so he might as well take advantage of the _now_. Victor’s always been good at living in the now; it doesn’t give you time to think about what will happen afterwards when you’re too busy enjoying the immediate satisfaction.

But now he’s letting the atmosphere sink on him like a ton of bricks. He stinks of alcohol and sweat and the movie still playing on the television is _loud_. It’s cold and it’s dark in his living room, and it’s nothing like Victor envisioned what the first time he’d kiss Yuuri would be like. The type of first kiss with someone he loves _so_ much should have Victor’s toes curling and his mind floating higher and higher without any intention to come down.

This kiss feels cheap and dirty, like he _cheated_ to get it.

When he feels Yuuri’s hand touch his own, Victor steps away. He’s not doing this. He _can’t_ do this.

“Call Phichit and tell him to come pick you up,” Victor says and starts walking to his bedroom, trying to put as much space between them. Makkachin has moved into the kitchen, sensing the tense aura between the two and is now beginning to whimper.

“. . .But I don’t understand,” Yuuri says. His words are slurring together with a choked cry and a hiccup and Victor doesn’t think he can listen anymore. The guilt and anger and frustration is taking over his body, urging him to not turn and look into Yuuri’s eyes because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take it.

Yuuri hiccups. “I don’t _understand_ ,” he repeats, louder. “You said I was beautiful, so why are you leaving me?” he asks, trying to keep his voice under control, but Victor hears the hurt and the sadness and just as much frustration leaking out.

“You _are_ beautiful,” Victor says, “You are _so_ beautiful, Yuuri, and I’m _so_ sorry I did this to you.”

And for the first time, Victor is the one that runs away.

He retreats to his bedroom, closes the door and slumps against it.

A few seconds later, he hears Yuuri trying and failing to keep his cries muffled. Victor sinks his face into his hands.

It feels like it lasts for hours when it’s only minutes. Yuuri is hiccupping and sniffling quietly; the sound of him staggering through Victor’s dark apartment drunk and distraught fills Victor’s ears. Yuuri starts talking to someone, voice trembling and threatening to crack. Victor hears his front door opening and closing shut shortly after.

He doesn’t move from his spot in front of his door until he hears Makkachin begin to scratch at it. When he opens it, Makkachin runs away from Victor and to the front door. His tail is wagging enthusiastically and he’s panting hard. Victor shakes his head ‘no’; he’s crossed a line he never thought he’d cross. He’s pushed Yuuri too hard and too fast. He’s going to give him space.

He feels like he shouldn’t be surprised; he’s done this before so it shouldn’t hurt as badly. He bounces back from heartache easily. Sometimes it makes an even better painting than when he’s in love, his mind rationalizes.

But Victor still hasn’t caught his breath. He still hasn’t rid of Yuuri’s taste in his mouth and his scent still lingers in Victor’s nose and on the couch. One of Yuuri’s shoes is still here, tucked underneath the coffee table alongside Victor’s. Both mittens are gone, however.

He tells himself to just lie down. He’ll clean the mess up in the morning. Victor asks Makkachin to _please_ stop scratching at the front door, before he sheds his clothes and crawls into bed. Makkachin doesn't get in bed with him until half an hour has passed. His eyes are disappointed.

Victor closes his eyes and tries to shut everything out, the thoughts of Yuuri’s face and the sound of him trying to keep Victor from hearing him crying.

He doesn’t sleep one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> victor and yuuri dance to "You Don't Know Me" by Ray Charles. as for the movie, it's Airplane!
> 
> the two random characters at the party are supposed to be Leo's coach and Phichit's (at least i think she is) choreographer. iNEED MROE CHARACTERS TO WORK WITH
> 
> yyyyeeeaaaaahhhh episode seven filled me with a lot of emotions. most of them was screaming about how cute guang-hong is and how much he loves leo, me being butthurt about probably not seeing these characters again until the end of the season/season 2 if we get one, me screaming again cause CHRISCANTSTOPJIZZING ON THE ICE STOPMYCHILD HE WAS SO INNOCENT WHAT HAPPENED, yelling at georgi's overly salted FS cause he's so freaking MESSY over anya jfc, and tHE CRYING/KISS SCENES THAT IVE WATCHED SO MANY TIMES I'LL PROBABLY WATCH IT AGAIN AFTER THIS IS POSTED LBR. 
> 
> this chapter's ending was always planned to happen (granted it came two chapters late but meh), but watching episode seven and seeing victor screw up like that made me want it more. maybe I'M the masochist.
> 
> this story might end the next chapter, and it might go on for one more. but dont worry~ i think the best love stories are the ones that don't run smoothly. they'll have a happy end :)


	5. for the rose and pearl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re right,” Phichit tells Yuuri in his native tongue, smiling at Victor waiting at their front door for Yuuri to get his skating gear, “he is hot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: okayyyy christophe ~~came out of nowhere~~ was fine. it was okay. it's cool. it's fine. but can jj be lovable, obnoxious, and share interaction with yurio and yurio thinks he's the most annoying person on the planet? 
> 
> yoi episode eight: fam, two out of three isn't bad ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> title chapter from Wicked's "I'm Not That Girl"

He’s. . . _gorgeous_.

He’s tall with silvery hair, a fringe covering his left eye while his right eye is exposed to show a swirl of energy in every shade of blue Yuuri’s ever known and some he’s now discovering.

The angles of his face are _perfect_ , high cheekbones and no blemishes or imperfections on his skin. He has broad shoulders and he’s dressed so _sharp_ ; he looks like he fell out of a magazine spread for Vogue or Prada or any other fashion brand Yuuri’s stocked on the shelves at work.

And Yuuri just faceplanted right in front of him like a _klutz_ , blood still gushing out from his nose.

Neither of them have said another word after this guy – this reallyreally _really_ handsome guy – came over to check on him. Yuuri is feeling dizzy, but he doesn’t know if it’s because his head collided with solid ice or because _wow_ , this guy is really hot and he looks so fucking _lame_ right now.

‘Hot Guy’ makes the first move and he waves. It’s makes things more awkward in Yuuri’s opinion, because they’ve been staring at each other for the past five minutes, but it’s so _cute_ at the same time.

“I’m Victor Nikiforov,” he introduces. His voice is suave and sophisticated. Yuuri detects a slight Russian accent too. When Victor extends his hand out to shake Yuuri’s hand, Yuuri flinches away on instinct.

It’s one thing to try and make small talk with Yuuri. It’s another thing entirely to make small talk with Yuuri while he’s so _flustered_ and _nervous_ and _embarrassed_ , with the added plus of if the person making said small talk is ten times hotter than any person Yuuri’s ever met in all twenty-three years of his _life_.

But Victor continues, stretching his hand out further towards Yuuri to keep him from running as he talks.

He’s seen Yuuri skating.

He’s been _watching_ Yuuri skate for the past two nights.

Yuuri hasn’t skated for an audience in a long time, not since his competitive days in high school and his first year of college. Yuko and the triplets might watch him every now and then, but skating in front of them is like skating in front of family. He doesn’t think too much about making mistakes; he falls and gets back up and moves the way he wants and they always clap in the end.

But for someone else that he doesn’t _know_ , watching his every move and scrutinizing every detail of his performance? This. . .is a little bit too much for Yuuri to handle, along with his bloody nose and embarrassment weighing too heavy on his shoulders. So, he does what he always does best.

He runs.

Victor is yelling at him to wait, but Yuuri is already skating to the entrance and shucking off his skates to throw in his bag. He barely gets his shoes on as a poodle – he has a _poodle_. He looks just like his own poodle when he was little. The guy’s so _perfect_ , why did Yuuri look like such an _idiot_ in front of him?! – approaches him. He unlocks his bike from the rental shack and hops on, looking at Victor desperately trying to catch him.

Yuuri doesn’t give him the opportunity. He pedals out of the park and down the street towards home, blood on his face now beginning to dry and head still spinning.

 

* * *

 

“On a scale of one to ten, how hot was he?” 

“Twenty.”

Phichit whistles. He’s uploading a picture of their breakfast to Instagram, banana and strawberry slices forming a monster face on his pancakes. The strawberry syrup is supposed to represent blood, Phichit has told him. It’s very weird, but it’s also very Phichit. Yuuri doesn’t mind it in the least.

“You should have waited~ maybe he wanted to flirt with you?” Phichit suggests, drowning his pancake monster in whipped cream. 

“Yeah _right_. There’s no way a guy like him would be interested in me like that. He’s probably already in a relationship with someone. No way a guy like that is single,” Yuuri says, not bothering to entertain the idea that Phichit threw out. He bets Victor's lover is just as glamorous as Victor is; they both probably wake up beautiful and have a beautiful breakfast together with their cute poodle.

Meanwhile, Yuuri is imagining his pancake monster is screaming in agony as his fork punctures its blueberry eyes.

“But you still should have tried to see what he wanted. Do you think he’ll be there tonight?” Phichit asks and Yuuri shrugs.

“It’ll be too cold to be at the outside rink,” Yuuri says, leaning back in his chair. “I think I’ll just skate at Ice Castle for the time being. Yuko said they’re installing new lighting and sound systems and it’ll be fun to skate to my music over the speakers,” Yuuri muses. Especially since he wrecked those headphones of his in the fall. Well, he _did_ need a reason to start saving for a sound system he can take around.

“You’re not avoiding the Hot Guy, are you?”

“No,” Yuuri states, cutting a chunk of his pancake monster’s head to dip in maple syrup. “He was just probably passing by on a walk with his poodle and saw me. The chances of him being there again tonight _especially_ with it being so cold is _highly_ unlikely,” Yuuri explains and Phichit rests his chin in his hand.

“But what if he _is?_ ”

“He won’t.”

“But what _if?_ ”

“Phichit,” Yuuri begins, stealing the whipped cream can from him to pour over his pancake monster, “he’s _not_ going to be there. There’s _plenty_ of parks downtown. There’s even a dog park not too far from the outdoor rink. Why would he go _there_ of all places?” Yuuri asks and places the can next to the syrups.

“It was just a coincidence. Nothing more,” says Yuuri, and he goes back to his breakfast.

 

* * *

 

It’s _probably_ a coincidence that the one night Yuuri craves a hot chai tea latte and a pumpkin muffin after his skate at Ice Castle, that he runs into Victor again. _Literally_ runs into him. 

It’s _probably_ a coincidence that Victor has enough money that night to not only purchase his own coffee, but also another hot chai tea latte for Yuuri after he got it spilled all over his nice coat. Victor tells him it’s fine, that it’s not his _favorite_ coat. But that fucking thing is a _Burberry_ coat! Why isn’t he screaming and yelling and demanding that Yuuri pay to get it cleaned so he doesn’t have to feel this _guilt_ eating his chest from the inside out?

He doesn’t think it’s a coincidence when Victor shows Yuuri all his sketches of him skating, drawn with such beautiful detail that Yuuri stares at them for a few minutes for his brain to register that it _is_ him. Nor is it a coincidence that Victor tells him that he’s been going through a dry spell and hasn’t have inspiration in a _long time_ , and the moment he sees Yuuri skate, all he can _create_ is art of Yuuri and he doesn’t want to stop anytime soon.

By now, Yuuri just thinks he’s in a _very_ convincing dream. Phichit is going to shake him awake any moment now.

Dream Victor asks Yuuri to model for his paintings, to which he accepts. He’s not sure what it is about himself Dream Victor finds interesting enough to create art in his image, but figures that after a painting or so, Dream Victor will move on to something else. He’ll have earned some extra dream money on the side at least.

He also gets Dream Victor’s number, complete with a string of emojis after his name in Yuuri’s contacts that makes him smile. Dream Victor offers to buy Yuuri dinner, but he turns it down because haha, this dream is starting to get a little bit _too_ real and his head is starting to feel a little bit light.

He leaves Dream Victor and his adorable poodle – his name is Makkachin and Yuuri wonders if he’s just as fluffy in real life as he is in his dreams – at the café and heads home to shed his clothes, crawl into bed and wait for the moment he finally comes back to reality.

When he checks his alarm early in the morning and sees Victor’s name with the long string of emojis after his name at the top of his new contacts, and the stain of chai tea latte on his shirt tossed on the floor, he realizes that last night _wasn’t_ a dream.

He proceeds to scream into pillow till he doesn’t have any air in his lungs left.

 

* * *

 

“Text him!”

“What do I say?!” Yuuri cries out. The message app is wide open and ready to input a message for Yuuri to set a place and time like he told Dream Victor – _real_ Victor – he would.

“Just say you want to meet at the rink again!” Yuko says, resting hands on Yuuri’s shoulders to shake the confidence into him. “You’re making such good progress! You _never_ got a phone number!” she exclaims. Yuuri shushes her before customers start giving the two of them dirty looks for being loud in a bookstore, then looks back down at his phone and drops it to his side.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” he says, clutching his chest.

“You talked to him easy last night, didn’t you?” Yuko asks. She looks down as Axel starts begging her to buy the latest issue of a magazine focused on women’s figure skating, Loop still searching through the magazines for the ones with posters.

“But I thought it was all a dream. That means I spilt chai tea latte all over his Burberry coat and laughed at his stupid joke about him using my blood to make art,” Yuuri groans. He thought Dream Victor seemed too dorky and nice and _human_ for it to be real. That’s what made it easier to talk to him. But knowing he’s _real_ and _waiting_ for Yuuri to make the first call. . .

Yuuri sinks to the ground and places his phone down beside him, hands going to his face. He’s never had to call someone back after getting their number. Most people that offered him their number were either classmates for projects that he deleted from his contacts as soon as it was over, or creepy first dates that think the night went well enough for Yuuri to _want_ to call them back. What does he say? What does he _do?_

“Yuuri,” a voice says, followed by an innocently insensitive jab to the side of his head. He looks up, Lutz standing next to him with her tablet gripped firmly in her hands. “What’s the wi-fi password? I want to go on YouTube,” she asks, not paying any attention to how he’s going through a mini crisis.

“Hey, leave him alone for a minute,” Yuko scolds, taking another magazine from Axel. “What are you worried about? Him rejecting you? He’s the one waiting for _you_ to respond back. You’re just talking about modeling for him, right? You can meet up over some hot chocolate and donuts,” Yuko suggests. Yuuri tucks his knees up to his chest and sighs. He needs to decide quickly; his lunch is going to be over soon and his shift ends in another two hours. If he doesn’t do it now, he doubts he’ll do it when he leaves.

Yuko’s right; they’re just going to meet up as acquaintances. It’s not like it’s a date or anything close to it. Victor’s just interested in Yuuri posing for his paintings, nothing more. So why is he still nervous about seeing him again? What if Victor came to his senses in the last twenty-four hours and wants to just call the entire thing off? What if Yuuri says something dumb during their meetup and Victor realizes how much of a loser Yuuri is and decides not to go through with it? What if-

_Message sent!_

Yuuri jumps in his spot, turning to see Lutz with his phone in her hands. She turns and shakes the device in front of him.

“Can you tell me the wi-fi password _now?_ ” she asks and Yuuri snatches the phone away, staring at the message on screen.

 

 _> >lets go to the park!!! I’ll buy hot cocoa and donuts!!! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧_ 

 

Yuuri _gapes_.

He looks up at Yuko, absolutely mortified. “She sent him a text,” he says, voice dead and flat. Yuko’s eyes widen and she grabs Lutz by her wrist to pull her to her mother’s side. Axel and Loop are running back with _more_ magazines to buy, holding them to their chest and grinning big.

“Why did you do that?!” she snaps and Lutz pouts.

“Because~ I thought he’d tell me the wi-fi password if he wasn’t worrying about texting him anymore,” Lutz says, like she doesn’t know what she did wrong. Loop and Axel bound over to Yuuri, trying to look at the text message.

Yuuri flinches when he sees the bubble pop up that Victor is _typing_. Oh god, he’s seen the message. What’s he going to say? He’s going to tell him to forget about it, isn’t he? He doesn’t know if he should close the app or hurry and type something else. What would he even _type?_

Axel and Loop are firing off questions in both of his ears about who’s he texting and how did he manage to get a date when he’s such a square? People are throwing irritated looks in their direction with all the noise; Yuuri is _definitely_ going to get nagged at by his supervisor once he finds out that Yuuri’s friend’s daughters are once again causing noise in the bookstore. Yuuri closes his eyes tight and wishes for the ground to swallow him up now where he sits, if only to escape from all this noise surrounding him and echoing in his brain.

 

**Beep!**

Yuuri’s eyes pop open and immediately look to the screen.

 

_> ah okay!!! Me and makkachin will meet you there! I can’t wait to see you my beautiful muse!_

_> ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ_

His. . .

_His beautiful muse?!_

He slumps against the bookshelf, the surge of stress exiting his system in one swoop and draining him of all his energy. Axel and Loop are pulled away from Yuuri’s body by Yuko, who crouches down and grabs him by the shoulders. 

“Yuuri?! What is it?! What happened?!” she questions and someone _finally_ gives an annoyed ‘ _shhh!_ ’ in their direction. Yuko ignores them, eyes focused as Yuuri raises his head and holds out his hand.

“Tablet,” he says and Lutz hands it over.

Without another word, he inputs the wi-fi password.

 

* * *

 

Victor Nikiforov is. . .different. He’s handsome and kind and patient. Every time Yuuri screws up during his skating and gives him crappy angles to draw from, Yuuri expects for Victor to pack up his things in a huff and say this is nothing but a waste of his time. 

But he doesn’t.

He smiles that smile of his that makes Yuuri feel warm in the face, and offers to take as many breaks as Yuuri needs to get focused. It works, but sometimes Yuuri wishes Victor _would_ yell at him. It’s easier for Yuuri to feel like shit about ending a night where Victor didn’t draw much of anything if Victor didn’t have that soft smile of his, and look at Yuuri like he’s the most beautiful thing Victor will ever see for the rest of his life.

“ _You’re right_ ,” Phichit tells Yuuri in his native tongue, smiling at Victor waiting at their front door for Yuuri to get his skating gear, “ _he **is** hot_.”

Yuuri ignores him, then ignores Victor’s many questions about what did Phichit say and why did Yuuri blush when he said it. Yuuri doesn’t want to entertain the idea of him and Victor possibly being any more than what they are now, trying to protect himself from the inevitable heartache that should happen if he even tries to pursue someone so out of his reach as Victor is.

But the only problem is that Yuuri doesn’t even know what this _thing_ is. It’s more than acquaintances, maybe just model and painter. He’s posed topless for Victor – and Yuuri still flushes red whenever he thinks about the gentle touch of Victor’s fingertips over his back – and they have a steady rapport when it comes to working ideas for Victor’s art and what Yuuri needs to work on for Victor to have plenty of options to choose from.

But then there are times like when they go to the ice rink just to skate around and hang out, or their walks from Ice Castle that have a comforting silence and hands that brush against each other every few steps. Those moments make Yuuri feel confused, because it doesn’t feel like they’re model and painter. It doesn’t even feel like friends because when he goes on morning walks with Phichit to the store, he doesn’t feel the same as being next to Victor. It’s. . .strange.

Whenever he tries to think about just what he and Victor _are_ , Victor always does something that sends Yuuri’s emotions into a dizzying spiral and reconsider everything. He thinks they’re only friends, and then Victor tries to make a grab for his hand for no other reason other than wanting to hold onto it. Yuuri panics, and so does Victor, and they go back to the awkward _thing_ that is comfortable but is _confusing_.

Yuuri resolves to learn about Victor and understand him, but not to cross the line that he starts to lose himself in Victor’s smile and those blueblue eyes of his. He wants to know why his heart beats so fast every time he returns home after seeing Victor, too excited to even sleep and regretting it in the morning. He wants to know why he still has the video of recording of him trying to take a selfie with Victor and how it never fails to make him smile and feel so _happy_ inside.

He wants to know everything about Victor, as much as he can while he still has his time.

 

* * *

 

“Who’s the guy?” 

“Hmm?”

Mari holds up her phone, an Instagram picture of Yuuri and Victor sharing hot chocolates at the park blown up nice and big on the screen. His parents take immediate interest, while Yuuri pales on the spot.

“Ahh, he’s just. . .a friend,” Yuuri says as he tries to put together a coherent thought. Mari raises an eyebrow, disbelieving look in her eyes. Yuuri begins to shovel rice into his mouth to distract himself from her gaze.

“He’s pretty good looking,” his mother compliments as she takes Mari’s phone. “Someone Phichit set you up with?” she inquires and Yuuri _chokes_.

“N-No! He’s _just_ a friend!” Yuuri clarifies. The phone gets passed around to his father next so he can evaluate Victor.

“How long have you been ‘just friends’?” he asks, making air-quotes with his left hand and teasing smile on his lips. Yuuri wants to take his pork cutlet bowl and crawl into the nearest crater he can find. Preferably one that leads to the center of the Earth.

“I don’t know, a month? Maybe a little bit more? I’m the subject for his paintings so our relationship is mostly professional,” Yuuri says and Mari smirks.

“ _Mostly?_ ”

“ _Strictly_ ,” Yuuri corrects. The phone gets passed back to his mother and Yuuri starts getting a little bit annoyed because they keep _staring_ at the photo of Victor trying to steal a sip of Yuuri’s hot chocolate. Both of their faces in the picture are pressed _way_ too close for it to be _strictly_ professional. He wonders how fast he can run up to his room to avoid their questions.

“What kind of paintings?” his mother asks, placing a hand to her cheek in shock, “Do you mean you’re doing _nudes?_ ”

“ _No, no, no!_ ” Yuuri yells, shaking his hands wildly. His father laughs.

“Does he paint murals? Or signs? How much are his rates?” his father asks and Yuuri rubs the back of his neck.

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“I was thinking about a mural near the front desk! Ask him to offer us a discount since you’re posing for him!” his dad says and his mother nods excitedly in agreement. Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose.

“ _Dad_ , I can’t do that-”

“Will he do it if you pose nude for him?” Mari asks with the _biggest_ grin on her lips. Yuuri gets up abruptly.

“Okay, I’m going to bed,” he announces, taking his pork cutlet bowl into his hands and sending a look of utter betrayal towards his family members. His father waves his hand, smile still on his lips.

“Okay, we’ll talk about negotiating with your friend later!” he says. Mari and his mother have clicked onto Victor’s Instagram profile and are now scrolling through _all_ his selfies with Yuuri that _definitely_ look more than strictly professional. Yuuri runs up to his bedroom and slams the door shut with his foot, placing his pork cutlet bowl on his computer desk before he flops onto his old bed.

Ugh, he _hates_ thinking about Victor in such a way. It makes his heart squeeze too tight and his head too muddled up with emotions. He repeats to himself over and over to stop thinking this way before he gets too in over his head. He tries to stop himself from dwelling on Victor’s eyes and his smile and the gentle touch of his hand.

He tries to stop remembering how _stupid_ and dorky Victor can be at times, but still manage to charm Yuuri though his lethal cooking and horrible jokes. He tries to keep Victor on this pedestal that is too far out of Yuuri’s reach instead of thinking about how Victor is _normal_ , weird but _normal_. Because the moment he does, he starts to hope that maybe. . .just maybe. . .Victor might possibly like someone like. . .

Yuuri buries his face into his pillows. There he goes, thinking about _that_ again.

He sits on his knees and rubs his face, groaning loudly into his palms. He drops his hands back onto his lap, then looks down at his bag on the floor with his phone resting on top. He talked to Phichit right before dinner to hear about Phichit’s tentative guest list for his New Year’s Eve party. It’s usually one of the more intimate get-togethers Phichit throws, just a few friends and some games, compared to the parties Phichit throws that has Yuuri trying to negotiate with their landlord _not_ to evict them the next day.

Yuuri wonders if Victor will mind coming as his date. . .

. . .Date in a _friend-sense_.

He reaches for his phone and goes to his contacts, thumb hovering over Victor’s number to dial. It’s been a while since he’s talked to Victor and heard his voice, and Yuuri feels so _stupid_ for missing the sound of Victor talking to him about art or Makkachin or his younger brother that Yuuri has yet to meet. It’s only been a few days; why is he so hung up on him like this? He doesn’t _want_ to be hung up on Victor like this. _Gah_ , he’s being such an _idiot_ right now.

He closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath, pushing those thoughts of Victor and those stupid feelings of _him and Victor_ deep down. They’ll resurface later, when he’s sleeping and his mind wanders through every love-sick scenario under the sun.

He taps the dial button and watches as his and Victor’s picture together flashes up on the screen as it dials. He smiles fondly at the picture, of Victor’s half-hidden smile and Yuuri smiling so hard that he can feel his cheeks beginning to hurt again. The feeling of his back against Victor’s warm chest and Victor’s hot breath against the nape of his neck. . .

“ _Hello?_ ”

Yuuri jumps and immediately hangs Victor up.

Then, he screams at his phone as if it was the _device’s fault_ for hanging Victor up.

He brings his phone up to his forehead, groans loudly, then dials Victor again. _This time_ , he’s not going to think about Victor like _that_. Don’t think about Victor’s arms. Don’t think about Victor’s smile. Don’t think about Victor’s lips kissing him-

“. . . _Hello?_ ” Victor answers again, sounding mildly confused.

Yuuri feels his voice disappear for a few seconds. Then, he swallows the lump in his throat and all his embarrassing thoughts down, and gives an awkward laugh.

 

* * *

 

How does he do this movement again? Maybe a serpentine step sequence will be better suited for the emotion of the character he’s trying to portray for the story of the program. He practices the steps in the break room, music in his earbuds as he tries to visualize himself moving on the ice to the beat. 

Minami is gawking at him over his lunch, sandwich clutched tight in his hands. He’d ask Minami for his opinion, but honestly Minami likes _anything_ Yuuri does. Yuuri can flop on the floor like a dead fish for five minutes and the teen will claim Yuuri has performed an artistic masterpiece. He still feels like _something_ is missing though from this program, but he doesn’t know _what?_

Yuuri stops and sighs, pulling his earbuds from his ears for now. Immediately, Minami starts clapping.

“You look so beautiful!” Minami gushes and Yuuri smiles, even though he didn’t do much of anything.

“Uh, thanks,” he says and takes a seat at the table across from Minami, resting his chin in his hands. “I still think it’s missing something however,” he murmurs and Minami’s eyes grow as big as dinner plates.

“What?! What can it be missing?!” Minami exclaims, like there’s no freaking _way_ Yuuri can put together a program that’s anything _less_ than sheer perfection. Yuuri sighs and looks at the song on his iPhone, turning his earbud in between his thumb and pointer finger. He understands the meaning of the song, but he feels like he’s not getting the emotions of the singer across.

Minami leans forward to look at the screen, eyes sparkling. “Is that the song you’re going to skate to?” Minami asks and Yuuri nods his head. He takes the earbud and hands it to Minami, who looks at the offered device as if it is the holiest of objects.

“Do you want-” Minami already has the earbud in his ear, eagerly awaiting to hear what song Yuuri has chosen to skate to. He sighs, then presses play and lets them both listen to the music as he goes over the story in his head.

The vocalist sings about waking up just before the dawn, dreaming about her desires and longing for the chance to act out on her feelings. She worries about running out of time and letting the opportunity for love pass her by, and she grows tired of both her and the object of her affection dancing around their feelings for each other.

He tries to think of movements to do that will be interesting for Victor to draw, but he doesn’t know how to properly convey the emotions at the same time. The more he listens to the song and tries to choreograph his movements, the more. . .frustrated he feels. He wants to skate to this song after he found it on an album his father owns, and he wants Victor to hear something that Yuuri feels so strongly connected to. The singer’s emotions and her words. . .her wants and her desires for her true love and her fear that her time is running out. . .

. . .Maybe that’s why he can’t get the movements for this song correct. Because he’s still trying to shut out this strange feeling deep in his heart about Victor that he’s too afraid to discover.

“I really like it,” Minami fawns, shaking Yuuri out of his thoughts momentarily. Minami has his hands to his face, smiling in pure bliss. “It’s so classy and beautiful. Nothing less from you Yuuri~” Minami gushes and Yuuri feels his cheeks grow warm. It’s a different kind of warm from when Victor compliments Yuuri and showers him with affection; this kind of warm makes Yuuri feel embarrassed for an entirely different reason.

“So what do you think is missing from it?” Minami asks and balls his hands into fists. “I want to try and help you anyway that I can!” he shouts and Yuuri hums, looking down at his iPhone.

“Well. . .I just feel like I can’t convey the emotions properly that the singer feels. I’m too busy thinking about the technical aspect of the program to even focus on it now. . .but that will make my movements look rushed and won’t have any purpose,” Yuuri says and groans. He doesn’t want to make this look bad in front of Victor. They’re drawing closer and closer to the end of the year and the exhibition is mid-February. He needs to give Victor as much material to work with as possible.

“Then don’t worry about the technical parts so much!” Minami says, like it’s so simple. “You always skate with so much emotion whenever we’re at the rink during our club sessions and it’s so _beautiful_. If the emotions are what’s more important, then focus on that!”

“But I _have_ to make sure it looks good and interesting for someone. He’s drawing from my movements on the ice so I want to make sure the program is dynamic enough for him to work with,” Yuuri explains.

“But this isn’t a dynamic song!” Minami exclaims and closes his eyes, placing hands to the sides of his temple in a sort of meditation stance. “This song is like. . .those old black and white noir films. Where the hard-boiled detective is investigating a murder, and comes across the dame that sings in this little bar. He _knows_ that she’s trouble from the way she looks and the way that she moves, but he can’t stop thinking about her!” Minami shouts, eyes popping open wide. He’s really running with this interpretation of the song.

“She leads him astray and seduces him, but then she falls in love with him and she sees the error of her ways. He runs away with her, leaving everything they know and love behind!” Minami says excitedly and Yuuri hums.

“But did she commit the murder?” Yuuri asks, humoring him.

“That’s for the audience to decide,” Minami says with a toothy grin. “But the point is, it’s not a song that you want to look perfect to. . .I think?” Minami puffs his cheeks and scrunches his eyes tight, thinking _really_ hard.

“You want to look good, but not _perfect._ Like, you want to look sexy, but at the same time flawed. Gah, I don’t know!” Minami shouts, running hands through his red and yellow hair in anguish. “I’m not good at coming up with stories for my programs I choreograph!” he explains and Yuuri smiles.

“It’s okay, I get what you’re trying to say. I actually think I understand a little bit more thanks to you,” Yuuri says, giving a reassuring pat on the back of Minami’s hand. Minami _freaks_. He usually does when Yuuri praises him; Yuuri wonders for a brief second if he looks like Minami when Victor gives _him_ praise.

“I-I’m glad that I can help you!” Minami chirps. “Don’t worry about the technical stuff, cause you always look amazing no matter what you do! And I bet that guy will fall in love with your skating like everyone else does!” 

“ _Haaa_ , I’m not _that_ great,” Yuuri says with a little smile.

Minami spends the rest of their lunch explaining to Yuuri that he is.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry. . .I couldn’t take my eyes off you for one second,” Victor explains and Yuuri looks down, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth. He’s out of breath from skating that exhausting program, but there’s a tingling feeling building up through his spine that gives him the shivers. 

He feels. . .happy. He knows that he skated beautifully out on the ice and got the emotions he wanted to convey across. He just. . .let go. It wasn’t about creating a beautiful picture for Victor to draw. It was about expressing his feelings through the music and Victor not taking his eyes off him.

“It’s alright-”

“You did a lot of new movements in that program though. I _should_ have a bunch of pages of you,” Victor says. He sounds disappointed and Yuuri _feels_ like he should be just as sad. He usually feels just as upset or maybe even more if Victor didn’t draw anything during their skating sessions, because then he feels like he’s wasted Victor’s time.

But now. . .he doesn’t _care_. He didn’t want Victor to even think about looking away for one second, not even if it was to recreate Yuuri’s image on paper. He knows it’s rather petty of him to think this way, he knows it’s selfish and might set them back by a week or so in terms of completing Victor’s exhibition, but fuck it. For the first time, Yuuri gave into his desires and wishes for Victor to just only look at him, to only _want him_ and never turn away and it _worked_.

But it all backfires immediately when he opens his fat mouth.

He tries to clamp up and keep his emotions from slipping past his lips, but Victor’s already curious and approaching him with those beautiful eyes and that inquisitive smile. Yuuri tries to close himself off, tries to change the subject and hurry up with packing away his things and retreating home to repeat the mantra of ‘it’s just a waste of time, it’ll never happen, he’ll never feel this way, stop it before you hurt yourself’.

But Victor puts his hands over Yuuri’s trembling ones, warm and gentle and Yuuri realizes that he just. . .can’t.

He doesn’t mean to scream at Victor, but he feels his vocal chords straining as he shouts ‘no’ and snatches his hands away from Victor’s grasp. Victor’s eyes hold so much confusion and worry in them that Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. He’s so. . . _angry_ with Victor. Why? Why does he make it so _easy_ and _difficult_ at the same time?

Why can’t Victor be the stereotypically handsome asshole Yuuri always sees in the movies? It’ll be _so much_ easier if Victor is an asshole and breaks Yuuri’s heart now. Yuuri will have no one to blame but himself, he’ll have a good cry, and move on like he always does.

Why can’t Victor be just as plain and boring as Yuuri? It’ll be _so much_ easier for Yuuri to take all these compliments if someone that didn’t resemble a god in human flesh is the one gently holding his face and whispering sweet nothings, soft and only for Yuuri’s ears.

“I’m sorry. I just – I – can you just give me a. . .” Yuuri buries his face in his hands and runs away before he can finish his sentence. He _always_ runs away in these situations and it just frustrates him more because this isn’t what he _wants_. He doesn’t want to run away from Victor, he wants to run _to_ Victor. He wants to throw himself into Victor’s arms, into Victor’s _warmth_.

He hides in the locker rooms, his back to the door and knees pulled to his chest. He’s so angry with himself. He’s angry with Victor. He thinks about the song and the lyrics, and realizes that his emotions are starting to overflow and he can’t bottle it away so easily anymore. All this fear and anger and frustration with Victor seeps out of his body with the way that he trembles. All the want and lust and desire fills his face with heat and blood.

He feels like he’s going to cry, but he holds it back and rubs at his eyes and breathes heavily through his nose. He doesn’t know what to feel anymore. There’s so many things that Victor makes Yuuri _feel_ that it only makes Yuuri’s head hurt and his heart weigh too heavy in his chest. He feels happy that Victor only wants to watch him, and he feels scared that the second he gets comfortable is when Victor will just _disappear_ , moving onto the next thing and leaving Yuuri behind in his own mediocre existence.

He wants to hate Victor for being so _kind_ and so _warm_ and so _human_ , because he’s giving Yuuri so much _hope_ and Yuuri so fucking _scared_ of losing Victor. He still has nights where he wakes up in a cold sweat, dreading the day that Victor decides that he doesn’t need to see Yuuri anymore and that their time together is over. That all he sees from Yuuri is inspiration waiting to be used to its fullest potential, and once run out, has now grown dull and uninteresting.

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to give this feeling a name. If he does, then he’ll only guarantee more sleepless nights worrying and fearing that he’ll never have the nerve to say what this feeling is, or that Victor will accept it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge what he feels for Victor. . .what he’s felt for Victor for _so long is_. . .

There’s a knock on the door and Yuuri jumps, looking over his shoulder to see Victor peering through the small window. Yuuri swallows down a breath of air and gestures for Victor to come inside.

It’s difficult, and he feels like it will only get harder the longer he lets these emotions swell in his chest. But for now, he tries to keep himself from breaking in front of Victor. He tries to keep these feelings from swallowing him whole.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri knows that Phichit means well when he sets up double dates. But this is by far the most uncomfortable Yuuri has ever felt on a date _ever_. He knows that if Phichit and his date weren’t here, it’ll be worse. He just hopes that he can make it out of this mall and safely back home before his date tries to suggest that they move some place quieter, like his _basement_. 

He takes a much-needed moment to break away from the guy when he asks to go to the bookstore. He’s already bought Victor a tissue holder that looks like Makkachin as his Christmas present, but now he wants to get him something else to serve as a birthday present as well. He sifts through the art section, looking for a book that Victor might like.

He’s not very good with art or art theory; he doesn’t know if any of these books are something Victor already owns or is already well-informed about. He gets distracted by books on postwar art and the art of Sundblom, perusing their pages before shaking his head and continuing to search. He wants the gift to have a little bit of meaning behind it like the tissue box, fondly thinking to all the times Victor tries to hide that he catches colds and looks less than desirable with a red and stuffy nose. Ah, but what to _pick?_  

A book falls behind him and he turns to pick it up, hand immediately brushing against someone else’s. Yuuri recognizes those hands in an instant, but he still looks up to see the face and sees Victor’s smile.

Words fall easier from Yuuri’s mouth as they go into their little back and forth banter. He hears the flirty tone in his own voice, but it sounds foreign to his ears. He feels himself gravitate towards Victor with ease, but he doesn’t even recall how did they get so close till Victor’s hands are already on his body and gently playing with his hair and his clothes.

Yuuri notes that Victor is wearing the same cologne his date is wearing, but feels that on Victor it smells just a little bit better. He’s around the same height as Victor, but Yuuri would rather stare up into Victor’s eyes instead.

Victor proposes the idea of ditching his date to grab something to eat, lips practically against Yuuri’s ear as he whispers it. Yuuri denies, then watches Victor fly by the seat of his pants as he tries to convince Yuuri to go, and tries to keep a look out for his date in case he catches Victor with him.

He loves that about Victor, spontaneous and exciting and never failing to surprise Yuuri. He loves being around Victor, listening to his voice and having Victor hold his hand and touch him like he does now. At times, Victor hesitates to touch him, or he pulls away too soon, but that just makes Yuuri want Victor to touch him _more_.

He groans, holding his books to his chest. “It’s going to be _so_ bad,” he says, but who is he kidding? He’s already made up his mind. Maybe. . .he’s enjoying this a little bit too much. Maybe he’s letting this atmosphere of Victor’s warm embrace and his eyes focused solely on him go to his head. He’s never been a flirt, _definitely_ not a tease. But with Victor, that’s all he wants to do. 

He relishes the way Victor’s eyes dilate when Yuuri leans up and presses their foreheads together, and allows for just this one moment to let his heart indulge in his stupid wish for Victor to want him as badly as Yuuri wants Victor.

 

* * *

 

He shouldn’t have done that. 

He shouldn’t have come.

He should have tried harder to be a stubborn ass and not fall for Victor’s eyes and his gentle voice and his concern with keeping Yuuri warm in the cold night air.

He should have tried to hurry back to the mall and to Phichit instead of lingering in Victor’s space, enjoying his warmth and his laugh.

Because now, as he lies in the frigid snow with Victor above him and their eyes locked tight, he feels nothing but warmth that blooms beneath his skin with each gentle touch of Victor’s hand. His heart is beating so loud in his ears and his chest rises and falls with each slowly passing moment.

It feels like time has stopped and nothing around them exists anymore. Snow is falling onto Victor’s back and blanketing them both, chilling them to the bone. He wants to tell Victor they should find shelter, but all his voice wants to do is croak out a plea for Victor to stop looking at his mouth and just _kiss him_.

He tried _so_ hard.

He tried _so hard_ , but Victor makes it _so easy_ to fall in love with him. Victor is brilliant and talented. He’s handsome and he’s kind. He’s comforting and nerve-wracking, perfect and flawed all at once. He wants to know everything about Victor, and he’s learned so much through their days and nights together, their shared gazes and prolonged touches. But even now he wants more.

He wants to know all of Victor’s story, each twist and turn and hope and dream, his past and his future. He’s wasted so many nights imagining where he fits in Victor’s story, fearing the moment that he finally gets to the end of their chapter together and both move on. He doesn’t want this to end. . .he doesn’t want _any_ of this to end. He wants to be someone important to Victor, someone _more_ than a friend or a muse.

His hand wraps around Victor’s wrist, Victor’s thumb against his mouth.

“. . .Victor?” he asks, quietly, warm puffs of breath escaping his lips and dissipating in front of him.

He wants to be someone that can instill in Victor the same wanting desire Yuuri feels whenever he’s with Victor. He wants to be someone that satisfies Victor, the _only_ person to satisfy Victor.

“. . .Your lips are chapped,” Victor blurts.

Yuuri blinks. He sees in Victor’s eyes mild frustration as Yuuri pushes upwards and begins to search for lip balm, taking the one offered by Victor when the artist hands it to him.

His hands tremble as he presses the stick to his lips, trying to keep himself calm and his breathing steady.

Yuuri Katsuki tries so hard to not fall in love with Victor and not to set himself up for failure.

But maybe he has always been doomed to fall in love with Victor, no matter how badly he wished he didn’t.

Maybe it’ll hurt him more than anyone has ever hurt him before. Maybe it’ll be everything he’s ever dreamed of. Maybe they'll part ways once this is all over, slowly at first and then disappear in an instant. Maybe this chapter is only the beginning, and their stories will intertwine into a story that will never end.

 

* * *

 

“Sooo,” Phichit begins, placing his keys on the hook as they step inside the apartment. “You and Victor?” 

Phichit was quiet the entire drive back home, so Yuuri knows he’s not going to get any sleep or any _peace_ if he doesn’t get through this interrogation now. He flops onto the couch face first, feeling Phichit take a seat on the arm.

“What was it that you told me a long, _long_ time ago? ‘There’s no way a guy like him would be interested in me’? ‘He’s probably already in a relationship with someone’?” Phichit asks, poking the top of Yuuri’s head.

Yuuri swats his hand away, turning onto his side. “He’s. . .I. . .” Yuuri sighs and brings hands to his face. “I’m in love with him,” he says into his palms, then repeats himself when Phichit didn’t understand. It sounds so surreal and he turns the idea around in his head, repeating the phrase over and over in his mind. He’s in love with Victor. He loves Victor. He’s hopelessly in love with Victor. So many ways to say the same thing, yet they each make Yuuri feel dizzier and dizzier the longer he reflects on it.

Phichit is grinning, now on his knees beside Yuuri. “So? Did you tell him?”

Yuuri’s eyes widen. “No! I couldn’t tell him _that!_ ” he exclaims.

Phichit pouts. “Why not? His brother and his friend told me he was _really_ into you,” Phichit explains and Yuuri rolls over onto his side, facing away from Phichit.

“Not like _that_. . .not like how I feel. . .Victor’s probably had so many lovers in the past. People with more experience than me,” Yuuri murmurs, taking a pillow to squeeze against his chest. “I’m twenty-four and still a virgin, and I’ve only kissed _three people_.”

“So? Who cares?” Phichit asks.

Yuuri turns to Phichit and frowns. “ _I_ care,” he says adamantly and buries his face in the pillow. “Who would want someone _that_ inexperienced? That’s such a _downgrade_ from who he’s been with in the past.”

“But why would he _care_? You don’t even know what his past lovers were like. What if they were all assholes? I mean, there’s a _reason_ they’re exes,” Phichit explains. He pushes Yuuri’s legs out of the way so he can take a seat on the couch and Yuuri props his legs over Phichit’s lap. He stares upwards at the ceiling, rubbing the side of his head as he tries to think.

“Even if they _were_ assholes, they were _with_ him. I know that it’s stupid for me to feel this way, and maybe he _does_ have feelings for me, but that’s not going to stop me from feeling like I’m going to bore him in the end the second someone more glamourous and interesting catches his eye,” Yuuri says.

He’s been around Victor long enough to notice that the artist has a somewhat one-track mind. If he wants something, he’ll pursue it relentlessly until he finally has it and has perfected it. He’s seen dozens of Victor’s sketchbooks filled with drawings of Yuuri that Yuuri thought were _amazing_ , but Victor doesn’t even spare them a second glance because he feels they don’t capture Yuuri _perfectly_.

He’s scared that after this long, he still doesn’t understand what is it that Victor sees in him that’s so _perfect_ and _beautiful_. He needs to wear big dorky glasses unless he wants everything around him to be viewed as smudges of colors and lines. He gains weight easily and still has pudge around his hips and stretch marks around the back of his thighs that won’t _go away_.

He sweats a _lot_ when he’s nervous, he cries when things get too stressful, he has an ugly laugh where he snorts like a pig, and he barely can inspire confidence within himself. So how is he inspiring Victor to create all this _beautiful_ art of this sexy, confident, and alluring Yuuri that only exists in Victor’s head and on paper? When will Victor realize and see Yuuri is just some nobody that can skate good at best and mediocre at worst? When will Victor come to reality like Yuuri _forces_ himself to remain?

Those beautiful brown eyes in Victor’s paintings, enchanting and full of light, aren’t his. That blithe smile in watercolors, coy and inviting, isn’t his. That sexual body, all curves and lines and soft strokes of the pencil, _isn’t his_. He’s. . .he’s not that person. He doesn’t know if he can ever _be_ that person. He wants to be, he _desperately_ wants to be. If it means that Victor will never get bored of him, he’d gladly trade places and become the Yuuri in his paintings to be always adored and beautifully immortal.

“Yuuri,” Phichit says and Yuuri looks over at him. “If you love him, don’t you think you should at least _try?_ I mean. . .sure it’s not the most fun part, but love is all about putting yourself out there. You hope they don’t hurt you, but if they do and knock you down, you eventually get back up and out there and find the person that won’t,” Phichit says with a shrug.

Yuuri brings the pillow to his face. “I feel so _dumb_ ,” he groans.

“Yeah, that’s another not so fun part,” Phichit says with a laugh. Yuuri pulls the pillow from his face and sits up, sighing deep.

“I have until New Year’s Eve till I see him again,” Yuuri mutters and Phichit waggles his eyebrows.

“Oooh~ are you going to put the moves on him at the party? Bedroom doors stay open,” he sing-songs. Yuuri whacks Phichit with the pillow and he laughs, then grabs a cushion off the loveseat and hits Yuuri with it.

After their impromptu pillow fight that ends with a busted pillow and selfies of them both covered in feathers, Yuuri retires for the night and promises to finish up the extra packing for his trip to his parent’s place in the morning. . .or rather, _later_ in the morning. Like when the sun comes up and he doesn’t feel so physically and emotionally drained.

He closes his eyes and lets his imagination run and his dreams to swell with his emotions and visions of Victor. He dreams about Victor’s smile and Victor’s voice. He dreams about cuddling in bed with Victor, Makkachin nesting at their feet and getting tangled in the blankets.

Yuuri has a dream about cooking with Victor, but there’s two extra plates at the table belonging to two adorable children with soft skin and heart-shaped smiles like their father. He then promptly wakes up, because holy fuck, he’s only twenty-four and he’s already thinking of having _children_ and he needs to just _slow down_.

He doesn’t get much sleep in the end, but he finds that he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

“ _How was your Christmas?! Are you having fun?! I wished you could have come to my Christmas party!_ ” 

Yuuri waits for Minami to stop screaming into his end on the phone, before he places it back to his ear and goes back through searching through the textile bin of the craft store.

“I’m enjoying myself. It’s not that cold and it’s nice to see the rest of my family during the holidays,” Yuuri says fondly. “I’ll come to your Christmas party next year, okay?”

Minami screeches with delight. Yuuri feels like his eardrum has burst.

He checks his hearing for a few seconds as Minami rattles off all the things he did for Christmas with his family and his friends and their club mates. When he’s _positive_ he didn’t go deaf, he tucks the phone back in between his shoulder and his ear and searches through the various patches. He finds a cute little poodle patch and holds onto it, not sure what he’ll use it for but is sure it’ll come to him soon.

“ _Will you be back on New Year’s Eve? I want to show you what I’ve been making for the gift exchange at Phichit’s party!”_

“I’m sure it’s supposed to be a surprise-”

“ _It’s a giant marshmallow!_ ” Minami spills anyways, “ _Lately, my practice ones have been getting stale too early and I’ve tried to make it so there’s flavor in every bite, but not **too** overpowering, you know? Ahh, Guang-Hong is a lot better with this sweets stuff, I should ask him. But I want you to sample some flavors too!_”

“Um, I’m not a food critique or anything. . .but I’ll try my best?”

Minami gives another victory screech, but this time Yuuri is quicker to pull the phone away from his ear.

“ _You won’t regret it! I’ll make sure it’s super sweet and yummy and perfect for you!_ ” Minami proclaims. “ _What’cha doing now?_ ”

“Looking for a late birthday present for a friend,” Yuuri says, not feeling like answering the hurricane of questions Minami will _surely_ spout if Yuuri says it’s for ‘someone he’s interested in’.

“ _I bet it’s going to be amazing! I really love my duffle bag you gave me!_ ” Minami says excitedly and Yuuri smiles. He figured the teen would; Minami likes to wear his equipment down till it’s barely able to function. The duffle bag Yuuri gave him is nice and sturdy, an eye-catching red that’s a similar shade to the streak in his hair, and more than enough compartments to cram all his pre-club snacks, in-between snacks, and post-club snacks.

He wants to give Victor a gift like _that_. Something that shows he’s been thinking about the artist.

He passes through the back area where the fabrics and sewing tools are, pausing when he passes by a display next to an array of easels and canvases. There’s two mannequins stationed in front of a large bin filled with different colored smocks. When he reaches out to touch the material, it’s soft against his fingers.

Victor always wipes his hands on his jeans whenever he pauses in between his painting and drawing. He can’t imagine what kind of mess his laundry is having to wash all those clothes he keeps dirtying. Yuuri looks at the sleeve and places the patch just above the shoulder. It fits _perfectly_.

He picks a navy-blue one, since it’ll look nice with Victor’s hair and his far too pretty blue eyes. “I think I found it,” Yuuri says to Minami, who gives an excited squeal.

“ _What is it? What did you get? A teddy bear? A scarf? A watch? Their favorite movie?_ ” Minami asks and Yuuri clicks his tongue.

“It’s a surprise for just them to know,” Yuuri says. He can almost hear Minami’s pout on the other line, so he changes the subject to what Minami is excited for next year and the teen eagerly begins to talk again. Yuuri listens, but his eyes are smiling fondly at the gift in Yuuri’s hands. He hopes he’ll like it. . .he hopes Victor will know how much love Yuuri feels for him and that he’s _always_ thinking of him.

 

* * *

 

“I’m just saying,” his father begins, looking as his wife fondly helps to stitch the poodle patch into the sleeve of the smock. Yuuri already feels exhausted.

“Dad-”

“This is a _very_ nice gift-” his father says and Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose.

“ _Dad-_ ”

“And since he’s stolen your heart - and you’re _definitely_ going to win him over because you have your mother’s good looks – you should talk him into painting something for the onsen! Like a nice, serene backdrop in the mountains,” his father pitches with a nod of his head and Yuuri looks over to his mother.

“ _Mom_ , make him stop,” Yuuri pleads and his mother giggles.

“When are you going to introduce us to him? Does he like pork cutlet bowls? We have an extra room he can stay in if he wants to spend the night? Or maybe you two want to share-”

“ _STOOOOPP!_ ” Yuuri yells and buries his face in his hands. Mari smirks around her cigarette beside him, giving a reassuring slap to his back between his shoulder blades.

“Next time you see him, just _suggest_ the idea of him coming down here to paint something to hang at the front entrance. We’ll be happy to give him our blessing to marry you if he says yes,” his father chirps.

Yuuri just groans even louder.

 

* * *

 

Victor loves the presents.

He smiles so bright and Yuuri feels so pleased with himself because  _he caused it_.

Yuuri thinks about what kind of present Victor has for him, eyes turned to the ceiling and small smile on his lips. Everyone is long gone after the party has ended. The new year has already began, and it starts with dragging Phichit to bed after his friend passed out over the arm of the couch from one too many celebration shots with Veronica.

He thinks about Victor's lips in his hair, and the feeling of Victor's skin against his lips.

He sighs when he thinks about Victor's eyes, placing his face into his hands.

Yuuri's. . .happy. He's  _so happy_. He's happy and he's in  _love_. It's sickeningly sweet and makes his body tremble all over with excitement. It's intoxicating, a sweet pleasure of falling and floating at the same time. 

"Phichit," he says, shaking Phichit's shoulder. Phichit groans, blinking a tired eye at Yuuri. He wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth, pushing himself into an upright position. Yuuri smiles, tilting his head to the mess of confetti still on the floor that needs to be swept. "We should clean everything up, yeah?" he says and Phichit blinks, then grunts and staggers to his feet. Yuuri helps steady Phichit, then walks into the closet to grab a broom and dustpan.

"You're oddly chipper. You're usually the first person in bed on New Year's," Phichit observes with a yawn as Yuuri hands him the broom. Yuuri gets to his knees and readies the dustpan, scooping some confetti with his hand. "Are you running on the power of  _love?_ " Phichit asks and Yuuri clicks his tongue.

"Not even," he says, even when they both know it's true.

"Did you two-"

"No, not yet," Yuuri confesses. "I'll tell him soon. Maybe at the exhibition's opening night so it's a little bit more special," Yuuri says. Plus, in the off chance it goes horribly wrong, Yuuri won't have to deal with the awkwardness of forcing on a smile and coming to see Victor to pose for another painting. Phichit sweeps some streamers into a pile, then into the dustpan Yuuri holds for him. Phichit is smiling down at Yuuri, and he gives a little chuckle.

"A new year and a new Yuuri, huh? Maybe  _this_ year will be the year we can have a fun double date!" Phichit says excitedly and Yuuri laughs.

" _Maybe_."

"Of course, I'll have to get a date as hot as Victor," says Phichit with a sigh, resting his chin in his hand. "Imagine, everywhere you two go, everyone's going to look and stare at you and hate you for having someone like  _Victor_ head over heels in love with you! Meanwhile, I can't even find someone that'll take a decent selfie together-"

Yuuri slumps onto the ground, a sudden zap of anxiety moving through his mind like a storm cloud.

People are going to hate him? That's right, if he and Victor start dating and going out, people'll wonder why someone as plain and boring as Yuuri is with someone as hot and glamorous as  _Victor_. Would they even look good together? They must if his parents are so eager to meet Victor and are planning them to be wed with their reception at the family hot springs. But those are his  _parents_ , they'd be happy if Yuuri just finds someone to settle down with  _period_. What if he looks out of place? What if he looks like he doesn't belong next to Victor? What if he looks like he doesn't  _deserve_ Victor? All of his 'love power' has drained from his body, leaving him to surge on self-depreciation.

"A-Ah! Yuuri, I didn't mean anything by that! I'm happy for you!" Phichit exclaims, trying to backtrack on his words. He takes the confetti that he swept up and sprinkles it over Yuuri's head like it is fairy dust. "Come on~ cheer up~" Phichit says and Yuuri groans.

"You're making a mess," Yuuri complains, sitting on his knees and dusting the confetti from his hair. 

"You and Victor looked cute tonight. You and Victor are going to be a cute couple and I'm going to be right behind cheering you on!" Phichit says and throws up a peace sign. "It's the least I can do to support you now since I've failed at being your wingman and setting you up with those other dates," Phichit says and Yuuri sighs. But, he smiles regardless and nods his head.

Yuuri takes the confetti in his hands. "To love," he says, and gently blows it from his palm. It settles over Phichit's shoulders and rains down onto his head.

Phichit smiles, taking a handful of confetti to blow over Yuuri's hair. It settles back in Yuuri's locks, making his hair look like the galaxy with golden stars dusting through the dark strands.

"To love!"

 

* * *

  

Yuuri spends about a half-hour longer in the bathroom than he plans to.

Most of his time is spent crouched by the sink, knees pulled up to his chest as he tries to get over the sudden worrying feeling sinking low into his gut. He’s spent time at Victor’s apartment before, talking over (poorly) made dinner and working on some late night sketches. This is nothing to worry about. This is nothing to freak out about. Why is he _freaking out?_  

There’s a knock at the bathroom door and Yuuri jumps. “H-Huh? Yeah?” he calls out.

“You okay?” Phichit answers back with a question. Yuuri staggers to his feet, opening the door to Phichit’s worried gaze. He softens immediately when he sees Yuuri’s face, giving a cheeky smile as he looks over Yuuri’s outfit. 

“Not bad~ he won’t be able to take his eyes away from you,” Phichit says with a wink and Yuuri looks down at the floor. 

“You think so?” Yuuri asks, twiddling his thumbs behind his back.

“I _know_ so. Especially since you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other at the party,” Phichit purrs and Yuuri groans. He _still_ hasn’t been able to shake Minami off at work after he caught them on the bed.

He doesn’t need _another_ person asking him a bunch of questions about his relationship with Victor and how far has he gone with Victor and volunteering to kick Victor’s ass if he hurts Yuuri in any way. Minami doesn’t even know _how_ to fight, he just copies moves he’s seen from Phichit’s old kung-fu movies.

Yuuri steps out of the bathroom and both move to the living room, Phichit grabbing his windbreaker to slip on.

“I’ll probably leave Seung-Gil’s place at midnight. How long are you going to be at Victor’s?” he asks and Yuuri shrugs.

“I don’t know. . .it’s just dinner and he’s going to give me a present. . .I don’t think I’ll be there that long, but I’ll call you if things change,” Yuuri says and Phichit nods his head.

“Remember, if you want to leave, then don’t hesitate to call me. The last time I left you over there, he almost set you on fire, right?” Phichit asks and Yuuri laughs.

“Don’t let him know that I told you that. He gets sensitive about that story,” Yuuri says with a grin and Phichit laughs too. Yuuri pulls on his shoes, running a hand through his hair as he bites on his lower lip. “Do you think everything will go fine?” he murmurs, running his fingers along the side of his glasses and debates on whether he should take them off.

“Why wouldn’t it? He's _crazy_ about you,” Phichit asks and Yuuri sighs.

“I don’t know. . .I’m just being stupid worrying about this, aren’t I?” he says with a laugh and places his hand over his chest. Phichit rubs Yuuri’s shoulder, leading him out the apartment first and locking the door behind him.

“Just remember to be yourself, okay?” Phichit says, placing hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “You don’t have to jump his bones. You move at your own pace. If you’re not sure about taking that first step, don’t force it. Just do some minor flirting, throw him a smile every now and then. Don’t think about it so much and just enjoy your evening together.”

Yuuri nods his head, heart beating frantically in his chest. He knows Phichit is right. If he just shows up at Victor’s place stiff and jumpy, Victor’s _definitely_ going to notice and ask him what’s wrong. His stupid anxiety at the back of his mind is still present, still whispering that he’s misreading the looks in Victor’s eyes as attraction and not just a general fondness. Still murmuring that Yuuri is going to look like a complete idiot showing up to Victor’s apartment and confessing his feelings for the artist, and Victor isn’t interested in him.

He understands that this is what love is supposed to be like, putting your heart out there and hoping the other person takes it with care, but it doesn’t make Yuuri feel any better. He’s _never_ felt like this with anyone before. He’s had stupid puppy crushes growing up, never taking it past the stage of only adoring them from afar. He’s had people who loved _him_ , but couldn’t reciprocate their feelings.

Victor is the first person he wants to chase after. He’s the first person he’s ever wanted to hold onto. He _is_ his first love, and Victor’s had so many. So many experienced. . .possibly more glamorous. . .skinny and perfect and _beautiful_ and-

_SMACK!_

Yuuri jumps, feeling an intense stinging on both his cheeks from Phichit’s warm hands and Phichit’s eyes focusing on him.

“. . .Okay, that hurt,” Yuuri says and Phichit smiles.

“You were doing the thing again,” he chirps and pulls his hands from Yuuri’s face, Yuuri’s cheeks instantly feeling sore and raw. Phichit grabs Yuuri’s wrist, tugging him down the hallway. “Everything is going to be fine! Say it with me, ‘everything is going to be _fine_ ’.”

“. . .Everything is going to be fine.”

“Louder!”

“Everything is going to be fine!” Yuuri shouts out and Phichit laughs, playfully musing Yuuri’s hair, but not so much that he ruins Yuuri’s slicked back hairstyle.

“We’re going to repeat that about a hundred times until we make it to Victor’s place, okay? We’re going to charge you up with good energy and the soundtrack from our favorite movie-”

“ _Your_ favorite movie,” Yuuri corrects with a smile and Phichit feigns a gasp.

“No way! You _love ‘The King and the Skater’!_ We watched it like fifty times!” Phichit exclaims and Yuuri laughs.

“Let me guess, are you going to introduce Seung-Gil to the magic of ‘ _The King and the Skater_ ’ tonight?” Yuuri asks, pressing the button for the elevator.

“Hell yeah! I’m going to make him fall in love with it, then we’re going to petition for there to be a third one!” Phichit says with a thumbs up. Yuuri smiles; well, if he can manage to convince Seung-Gil it’ll be worth his time, more power to him. The elevator doors slide open and they both step inside. Yuuri watches the doors slide close and he takes another shaky breath.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Yuuri repeats to himself and Phichit smiles.

“Everything is going to be _fine_ ,” Phichit says, and starts to hum the first few bars of ‘Shall We Skate?’ over the elevator’s monotonous jingle as Yuuri’s motivational music. Yuuri smiles, laughs when Phichit tries to get him to sing along.

Everything’s going to be fine.

Everything’s going to be _fine_.

 

* * *

 

Everything starts out fine. 

Everything starts out relatively normal and Yuuri feels stupid for even worrying so much about how to act around Victor when it’s just _Victor_.

Victor, the man he’s fallen hopelessly in love with. Victor, the man that likes to chat with Makkachin as if he’s a personality on a cooking show while Yuuri guides him through the process of cooking the fish and vegetables. Victor, the man who doesn’t understand that hot glass does not react well with cold water and accidentally shatters his glass pan while trying to clean it.

Victor isn’t perfect. Victor is just Victor.

After Yuuri stops screaming and tends to Victor’s injured hand with as many colorful band-aids he can find in Victor’s medicine cabinet, they move onto the present. Yuuri understands now why Victor looked at him so funny when he revealed the white gloves Phichit bought him, and feels his chest grow warm with such fondness when he realizes how long Victor must have thought about giving him these mittens.

They’re not perfect and it’s going to be awkward with his left hand, but Yuuri doesn’t care. Victor thought about him when he made these mittens. He thought about Yuuri with his old, fingerless gloves and always trying to keep his hands warm during those nights at the rink. He even knitted them in his favorite color, a deep ocean blue that reminds Yuuri of Victor’s eyes.

Yuuri doesn’t want to leave, but he doesn’t know if he’s overstaying his welcome. The anxiety starts to echo in the back of his mind and he starts to feel jittery in his skin, glancing at the clock. 

“I should get home. It’s getting late,” Yuuri murmurs. He can call Phichit to meet up at the coffee bar and let him know how the date – is this a date? It’s _kind of_ a date. Oh god, he’s starting to tremble – went. Victor grips his uninjured hand.

“Or you can. . .hang out and we can do something?” Victor asks.

. . . _Huh?_

Victor’s voice is quieter than normal. His hand is still clenched tight into a fist. Yuri raises an eyebrow.

“What do you have in mind?” Yuuri asks and Victor rubs the back of his neck.

“. . .I have beer. . .we can play a game?” Victor suggests, clearly flying by the seat of his pants. Yuuri has never been someone that enjoyed drinking games. He’s more like a spectator instead of a player, usually since he’s the designated driver. But. . .this doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Just a few drinks won’t hurt. It gives Yuuri a reason to linger around Victor without feeling out of place. It gives Yuuri a reason to just remain in Victor’s presence, more time to gather up the courage to tell Victor his feelings.

So, he agrees.

He drinks and spouts out line after line during their quote-along game, barely focusing on the movie as he feels Victor pull him into his grasp. They go through bottle after bottle, Yuuri trying to keep his snorts and laughs down as he hears Victor recite each line trying to mimic the voices of the actors.

His skin is warm and flushed with heat, with his heart beating rapid against his ribcage. He might be a little bit drunk, but that’s okay. In fact, he’s never felt better. Victor is so warm against him, sturdy and comforting. He smells like beer; Yuuri’s sure they _both_ do. But since it’s Victor, Yuuri just tucks his face against Victor’s broad chest and breathes him in.

Halfway through, they abandon the quote-along, then the movie all together. Yuuri knows that he should call Phichit to let him know how he’s doing, but Victor is just so _comfortable_ and warm. Yuuri fits so perfectly in his arms, like he’s _always_ meant to be in this embrace with Victor’s nose in his hair and his hands lightly roaming over Yuuri’s body.

. . .How many people has Victor held like this?

How many people has Victor cuddled with like this, both drunk and enjoying each other’s body heat.

He shudders out a breath, fingers tangling in the material of Victor’s shirt in a sudden possessive hold.

“Twenty questions,” Yuuri blurts, not waiting for Victor to register the request, “How many lovers have you had?” he questions.

Victor gives him a confused look, like he doesn’t understand why Yuuri’s even bringing up when _he’s_ the one cuddling with Victor. Yuuri doesn’t even understand why he’s asking the question either, but he can’t take it back now, and quietly waits for the answer.

“A couple.” Victor’s voice sounds distant, like it’s not important. It’s not important. It _really_ isn’t. But Yuuri feels something clawing at the back of his mind even stronger now, alcohol making his heart speed up a little bit too quickly and head begin to ache. He gives a hiccup and Victor asks him a question.

“How many people have you kissed in your life?” Victor asks. Yuuri feels the lazy movement of Victor’s finger tracing figure eights in the small of Yuuri’s back. It makes his skin a bit _too_ hot.

“A couple,” Yuuri answers, thinking he sounds ‘oh so clever’. But his mouth feels like it’s filled with something bitter and his stomach starts to churn the longer Victor looks at him, so he eventually answers with the disappointing truth of ‘three’.

He asks Victor who was his first kiss, swinging a leg over Victor’s lap without thinking. He wonders how many lovers had this type of pleasure of seeing Victor beneath them like this, flushed in the face and warm. His face is far too close to Victor’s; he’d never dare to be this close to Victor if he was sober. Sober, boring, timid Yuuri.

Victor’s hands slide underneath his shirt and travel up and down Yuuri’s spine as Yuuri tries to tell him the three people that he’s kissed. Really, they’re all sorry experiences for a kiss. They were impersonal, and nothing Yuuri can look back on fondly and say he enjoyed them or the people that he shared it with.

How many people has Victor kissed? How many people does Victor know intimately with his tongue? He feels Victor’s hand clutch at the back of his thigh and he shudders against him, cradling Victor’s face with trembling hands. He’s so beautiful. Why does Yuuri even _think_ he can compare to the lovers Victor has had before? He’s not witty, he’s not special, he’s _nobody_. He can’t even feel sexy enough to seduce Victor into falling in love with him.

He’s so _stupid_. Victor’s loved so many people and Yuuri doesn’t even understand what love is. He’ll never be good enough. He’ll never deserve Victor. He’s just a passing interest, someone that Victor has decided to grace with his time and his presence and will move on once there’s nothing else to see. He’ll never experience this feeling of warmth against him, strangling his lungs and burning him up from the inside out. Victor won’t ever love him as much as Yuuri does.

All he should do is hope that they’ll be friends. That’s what he should always have done. But Yuuri’s _stupid_. Stupid and hopeful and _pathetic_.

But he doesn’t run away. He just laughs, and lets himself be stupid.

Victor’s lips are soft against his. He exhales with a dreamy sigh as his tongue slips into Victor’s warm mouth.

It escalates quickly after that.

He doesn’t know how, but suddenly he’s the one underneath and being crushed into the cushions of the couch. Victor is above him, kissing him hungrily and with so much force and Yuuri _melts_. Victor’s knee wedges itself firmly between Yuuri’s legs, his hands moving all over his body rough and frantic. His hand tangles into Yuuri’s hair and he crushes their mouths against each other _hard_. It. . .it hurts.

Victor’s teeth pull on his lower lip as he tries to catch his breath. “H-Hold on,” Yuuri tries to stutter out, but it comes out breathless and faint. Victor didn’t seem to hear him, since he continues to kiss all over his face and down his throat, biting at his neck before he sucks on a spot against his jaw. He’s breathing harder, but it’s not for reasons he wants it to be.

“V-Victor,” Yuuri chokes out the artist’s name, clutching at Victor’s shoulders. He’s shaking so _much_. He’s. . .he’s _scared_. Why? Why is he _scared?_ This is what he wanted, isn’t it? He wants to seduce Victor. He wants to be _enough_ for Victor. Victor wants him, doesn’t he? That old proverb that ‘drunk men speak with sober tongues’, this means Victor wants him too, doesn’t he? So why does he feel tears burning at the corners of his eyes? He should be _happy. Why is he scared? Why can’t he breathe?_

“Stop,” Yuuri whimpers, though he doesn’t know if the plea is to Victor or to these thoughts slowly drowning him. Why is he so _weak?_ Why can’t he just lie here and _take it?_ Why does he always have to screw everything up in the end? He’s so fucking _stupid._

“ _Wait_ ,” he finally croaks out and Victor moves up to kiss him silent.

But he hovers over his face, looking into Yuuri’s eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes are clouded over with such lust and carnal desire, to the point that it feels like Yuuri is staring into the eyes of an animal rather than his Victor. Didn’t he want Victor to look at him like this? With such want and desire to take Yuuri’s body for his own? But he’s still trembling and he feels naked, even though it’s only his chest that’s exposed.

“I. . .” Yuuri chokes and covers his mouth. No, no he’s not going to cry. He’s not going to do this. He wants this. _He wants this_. Stop being scared. _Stop being stupid and weak_.

“I-I’m sorry. I can do this. I just. . .it’ll be my first time, so if it’s not good. . .” He starts to panic again and he covers his face with his hands again to try and still his nerves. He’s ruining _everything_. He _always_ ruins _everything_. He wants to be whatever Victor wants from him. If all he wants from Yuuri is a quick fuck, then shouldn’t he be _happy_ that Victor wants _that much_ from him? Victor loves him enough to want his body, shouldn’t he take what he can get?

He pulls his hands away. “I want to do this,” he says. Victor stares at him, eyes slowly regaining that soft shimmer that never fails to make Yuuri melt. He’s not moving to touch Yuuri or kiss him; his gaze starts to make Yuuri uncomfortable and insecure.

“I-I want to do this, Victor,” Yuuri repeats. His body is so stiff that he can’t even feel his arms or his legs. He still feels like he can’t breathe and he still feels tears ready to fall. Why is he just _staring_ at Yuuri?! Why isn’t he kissing him?! He’s so _confused_. He doesn’t understand how to fix things and he’s getting frustrated.

He feels so _embarrassed_ , lying underneath a guy and about ready to burst into tears. He’s such an idiot. He doesn’t want to do this; he _knows_ he can’t do this. But he doesn’t want to lose Victor. Why can’t he be the Yuuri in the paintings? Why can’t he be seductive and beautiful and everything Victor thinks he sees in Yuuri, but Yuuri _knows_ it’s not there? He feels so _exposed_ and _naked_ and _stupid_ and a _fraud_. Why can’t he _do this?!_

Victor pulls away when Yuuri feels like he’s going to scream out a sob to just ‘ _do it already’_.

For a few seconds, Yuuri feels like he can breathe again.

He sits upright, tugging his shirt back down and placing his hands over his chest. His heart is beating rapidly against his chest and he takes a couple of breaths to calm himself down. It doesn’t do much, but it helps just a tiny bit.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri apologizes. Victor closes his eyes and rests his face in the palms of his hand.

“You don’t have nothing to be sorry about,” Victor murmurs. His voice is distant and emotionless. It crushes Yuuri’s heart.

Victor gets to his feet and Yuuri feels desperation scratch at his lungs.

“I can do it-” Yuuri offers, _pleads_. Victor shakes his head.

“No. . .Yuuri, I’m sorry. I need a moment-”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks. He doesn’t understand. This isn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t what Yuuri wants. Victor isn’t supposed to leave. He’s supposed to smile at him like he always does. He’s supposed to hold his face and play with his hair. He doesn’t want Victor to leave. What can he do to fix this? What can he do to keep Victor from leaving?

He reaches out to touch Victor’s hand, but Victor moves away. Yuuri feels something welling in his throat, but he forces it down. No, he’s not going to do it. He’s not going to. Not here. Not in front of Victor.

“Call Phichit and tell him to come pick you up,” Victor says and begins to walk towards his bedroom.

“. . .But I don’t understand,” Yuuri says, words slurring and lips trembling. No, he _can’t_. He _can’t_.

Why? Why is Victor _leaving?_ This isn’t supposed to happen. Is it because Yuuri couldn’t have sex? He’ll do it. He can do it. He’ll do whatever Victor wants. Come back. _Come back_.

“I don’t _understand_ ,” Yuuri hiccups, louder and more pathetic. He doesn’t want to beg for Victor to not leave him. He doesn’t want to show how weak he really is. But he feels his emotions overflowing like a waterfall and he can’t _stop it_.

“You said I was beautiful, so why are you leaving me?” he asks. Did Victor _ever_ love him? Did Victor _ever_ believe he was beautiful? He knew it; he got way in over his head. He was never good enough for Victor to be worth a loving gaze or a soft kiss. He’s not even worth a gaze filled with desire and kisses with teeth and tongue and heat.

“You _are_ beautiful,” Victor says. “You are _so_ beautiful, Yuuri, and I’m _so_ sorry I did this to you.”

He retreats into his bedroom, and closes the door shut behind him.

Yuuri’s beautiful only in paintings.

He’s not beautiful enough for Victor to love him as is.

He’ll never be that Yuuri Victor fell in love with, filled with color and life and excitement.

The ache of reality finally squeezes his throat tight enough for a sob to escape into his hands.

He cries.

He cries.

He sniffles and sobs and tries to keep quiet, grabbing his mittens. Makkachin pads over to him, whimpering and nuzzling his face into Yuuri’s leg. It just makes Yuuri cry more, burying his face into the soft fabric of his mittens until it grows damp with his tears. He grabs one shoe and doesn’t know where the other one is, but he doesn’t feel like he can stand in this apartment any longer.

He fumbles to put his right shoe on, clumsily dialing Phichit’s number. Tears fall on the screen and he stills his breath.

“ _Haha, Yuuri! Guess who the newest fan of ‘The King and the Skater’ is?_ ” Phichit chirps.

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak, sucking in a deep breath of air to keep his voice from shaking.

“I’m. . .I’m ready to come home now,” he says. His voice trembles only a bit, but Phichit has always been good at noticing the little changes in Yuuri’s voice over the phone.

“ _. . .I’ll be right there, okay?_ ”

“Yeah, okay.”

“ _Just keep talking to me, okay?_ ”

“Uh-huh,” Yuuri says, letting himself out of the apartment and gently closing the door behind him. He ignores how Makkachin begins to scratch at the door and whimper for Yuuri to come back, trudging down the hall with his face in his mittens and Phichit’s warm voice in his ear.

 

* * *

 

Phichit arrives outside Victor’s apartment faster than Yuuri expects him to. Seung-Gil doesn’t live in the downtown area like they do; his home is situated far out in suburbia where no one knew their neighbors and minded their own business. He lets Yuuri get into the roadster first, waits till he gets buckled in, then gives him a smile that’s so bright and happy. 

“You know what sounds good right now? Beverly’s,” Phichit says, drumming his hands over his steering wheel.

He turns on the radio and speeds away from the curb, heading downtown towards the college and into the small shopping district. Yuuri’s hands are tangled tight in the fabric of his mittens, eyes exhausted and nose running. His body has finally stopped trembling and his breathing is at a normal pace. He settles into the silence, relaxing into the cushion of Phichit’s car seats, and watches the late-night lights blur all around him.

Beverly’s is a diner, open twenty-four hours to service students in desperate need of food and energy during finals week, or to accommodate a skate club get-together after practice, or for Yuuri and Phichit to stroll in after a date that’s gone sour.

There’s only three other patrons in the diner when Phichit and Yuuri walk in, Yuuri wearing Phichit’s beach sandals he left in the back of his trunk. The server doesn’t pay it any mind as she sits them at the counter, takes their order, and hands it to the cook to get to work. The nice thing about Beverly’s is that if you come at the right time, the cook is open to making whatever you like, so long as they have a recipe and the proper ingredients.

When a pork cutlet bowl gets placed in front of Yuuri, and Phichit gets a heaping plate of peach cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream, he feels relaxed. He takes a bite and sighs. It’s not the same as his mother’s; not as good, but good enough.

Yuuri admits he’s a pain to comfort and console. He doesn’t want anyone to see him as weak, so he pushes people away when he starts to get upset. He works through his problems on his own, tries to convince himself to be a little bit harder and thick-skinned the next time around, and never takes his advice to heart. He knows that none of his loved ones think that he’s weak, and that they all care about him and only want to make him happy. But it’s still hard sometimes for Yuuri to talk to someone, not wanting to place the burden on their shoulders when he feels he should deal with his own pain.

Phichit talks to him, not asking about Victor or what happened just yet, but about how Seung-Gil is absolutely intrigued with _The King and the Skater_ and how all three of them need to have a movie night and watch the sequel for the hundredth time. It’s how Phichit comforts Yuuri, distracting him with food and conversation that goes nowhere, but somehow makes Yuuri feel better anyways. It doesn’t make Yuuri feel like he’s weak or stupid. It makes the pain in Yuuri’s chest seem minor, like it’s nothing but water off a duck’s back.

Yuuri knows that Phichit will patiently wait until he’s ready to talk. He won’t force it out of him until he’s ready. For that, he’s grateful.

Yuuri finishes his bowl and Phichit orders him some soup that warms his belly. The alcohol has worn off, and Yuuri feels drowsy with sleep. He manages to finish his soup and Phichit pays for their meal with the few bills he has in his wallet, then walks Yuuri out of the diner and both climb back into the car to head home.

Yuuri shucks Phichit’s sandals at the door amongst their pile of shoes. Phichit tosses his jacket on the couch and hangs up his keys, looking over his shoulder at Yuuri as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

“Want to see the pictures I took with Seung-Gil’s dog? She’s gotten so big and fluffy,” Phichit says with a smile. Yuuri nods his head, both taking a seat on the couch and Phichit handing over his phone for Yuuri to see.

There’s selfies of Phichit with Seung-Gil’s dog, kissing her nose and cuddling her against him. There’s a few of her resting on Phichit’s and Seung-Gil’s lap as they try to watch the movie, Seung-Gil lazily rubbing her back while his eyes are focused on the film. Yuuri smiles, looking over at Phichit.

“Did you have fun?” Yuuri asks, despite his own feelings.

Phichit nods his head. “Yeah. I never get tired of sharing my favorite movie with someone,” Phichit admits with a smile. There’s a beat of silence; Yuuri’s shoulders relax and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He slumps against Phichit’s side, and Phichit gently smooths out Yuuri’s hair with his hand.

“. . .How are you?” Phichit asks. Yuuri smiles, letting out a shaky breath.

“. . .I screwed up,” Yuuri admits. “W-We had a few beers. . .a _lot_ of beers. . .and I kissed him,” Yuuri explains. The memory still hurts, and he can still feel Victor’s mouth against him and taste him on his tongue, but it’s not as intense. It doesn’t strangle him. It doesn’t make the air thick and heavy and feel like it’ll crush him any second.

“It started to move too fast. He was kissing me and grabbing me and I _thought_ that I could do it, but I just _couldn’t_. I tried _so_ hard to just go along with it, but I was too scared and dumb to get into it. It felt like I couldn’t even _breathe_ , it was so _awful_.”

“He didn’t force you though, right? He didn’t. . .” Yuuri feels how tense Phichit gets as he thinks of the worse possible scenario. He gives a squeeze to Phichit’s hand and shakes his head.

“No. . .he pulled my shirt up, but that’s as far as we went,” Yuuri says. There’s more relief in his words than sadness and self-hate. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want that. He _does_ want to kiss Victor, but he wants kisses that are warm and soft with ‘I love you’s’ peppered between. 

He wants Victor to be his first, but he wants his first time to _mean_ something. Not a quick, dirty fuck where both stink of alcohol and minds are filled with doubt, like Yuuri _tried_ to convince himself will be satisfying enough. He wants it to be slow, taking the time to explore their bodies and lingering in shared heat.

Yuuri’s eyes move towards the floor. “He was the one that stopped. He told me to call you and just went in his bedroom. . .” Yuuri mutters.

“. . .Did you not want him to stop?” Phichit asks and Yuuri closes his eyes.

“No. . .yes? I don’t know. . .I wanted him to stop, but I didn’t want him to _leave_ me,” Yuuri mumbles and rubs his face. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t understand him. He’s so _confusing_. Or maybe I’m just stupid and thought he loved me more than just a muse,” he breathes out, depressed.

“He _does_ love you, Yuuri,” Phichit says fondly, hugging Yuuri to his side. “He wouldn’t have cared whether you were ready or not if he _didn’t_.”

“Then why did he _leave me?_ ” Yuuri asks, voice breaking. He clenches his lips tight, hands tightening into fists. “If he loves me, if I’m _beautiful_ and _perfect_ like he always tells me, why did he push me away? He _never_ ran away from me. I didn’t _want_ him to leave me,” Yuuri croaks, feeling his cheeks fill with warmth. He takes a few breaths to calm himself down and rubs his forehead.

God, he’s _really_ tired. He usually feels better after crying, but right now he just feels drained.

Yuuri groans and pushes himself to his feet. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” Yuuri sighs. Phichit nods his head, cocking his head to the side.

“Take a soak in the tub first,” Phichit suggests. Yuuri just gives a tired grunt, then heads to the bathroom to begin running the water.

It helps. The warm water takes out any remaining tension in his bones and the scent of the bath salts removes any lingering scent of alcohol or Victor off his skin. He slumps in the bathtub, looking at the rubber duck floating around between his legs before he turns his eyes upwards to the ceiling. He thinks about Victor’s eyes, how they shimmered before he pulled away. Just like they always did, full of care and love.

. . .Victor _does_ love him.

He pulls his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees.

He doesn’t know what he should even do now. What are you _supposed_ to do in this situation? Yuuri huffs, sinking down into the water. Why did he do something so _stupid?_ Why did they _both_ do something this _stupid?_ It frustrates Yuuri even more because shouldn’t Victor _know_ how to treat a lover? He didn’t have to treat Yuuri as a lover, but he could have at least treated him like he had _feelings_. What kind of lover would treat someone like that, _especially_ if that someone is supposed to be ‘his beautiful muse’?

“Stupid Victor,” Yuuri grumbles, and flicks the rubber duck in between its blue eyes.

Yuuri gets out of the bath when the water runs too cold for him to sit in any longer. He towels off, slips on his pajamas and trudges out of the bathroom down the hall to his bedroom. Phichit’s door is cracked, just in case Yuuri wants to come in and talk to him about something before bed. He can hear Phichit chatting with someone over the phone. He guesses it’s Seung-Gil, since he’s explaining a scene from the movie in very finite detail and begins to get frustrated when it seems Seung-Gil doesn't understand the purpose of a line or the elements of the film. He smiles and leaves Phichit to his fun, entering his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Yuuri crawls into bed, pressing his face against the softness of the pillows. His eyes move over to the photo frame of his family, to the purikura of Victor and Yuuri taped at the side like Victor has become a part of Yuuri’s family.

He takes the photo frame and looks at the purikura of Victor holding onto him nice and tight. In a few of these, Victor’s eyes aren’t even on the camera. They’re focused on Yuuri and are filled with such adoration, with the kind of love Yuuri wants to feel from Victor and reciprocate. Yuuri places the photo to his chest and stares at the ceiling, cheeks warm.

He’s such an idiot.

But so is Victor.

He’s not perfect.

Victor isn’t either.

He’s going to make mistakes.

Victor will too.

He still loves Victor. He still loves Victor and wants him to love Yuuri back, without restraint. Without caution.

He hopes Victor feels the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blllleeegghhh 
> 
> i feel like this chapter wasn't necessary but at the same time i really wanted to write it. and even now, I'm not 100% sure its that good. idk, i guess i just need more time to plan the final chapter out because i think we're going to get some major feels next episode (i didn't sign up for dogs dying MAPPA wtf is this) soooo I'm going to just wait on it and see. but in other news
> 
> gOD JJ
> 
> i'm not THAT shocked as i was with christophe, but i was still a little bit overwhelmed. like i asked for 'lovable obnoxious goofy canadian' and i got 'arguably lovable obnoxious canadian fuckboi'. he has a tramp stamp like jfc wHOARETHESE PEOPLE YOU ARE NOTHING LIKE YOUR PROFILES SAID YOU WERE. but that yurio and JJ interaction was eVERYTHING I WANTED IN ONLY THREE SECONDSGDOIMSOHAPPY AND SEUNG GIL I S EVERYHTING I WAS EXPECTING HES MY ONLY CHARACTER I GUESSED RIGHT IN TERMS OF PERSONALITY. emil is a cutie and michele has no chill and i want to see moRE SALA and MORE MILA. I'm bummed i hope they show them competing pls show me plsplspls 
> 
> next chapter is the last chapter and i hope that everyone will enjoy it. thank you all so much for the support for this story and all of the kudos and all of the comments and bookmarks and recommendations and EVERYTHING!! THANK YOU!!


	6. unforgettable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not wearing some monkey suit. This is an art gallery, I should be able to express myself as much as everyone else here,” Yuri argues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title chapter(s) from Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable"
> 
> first off there's TWO things i want to give a shout out to. 
> 
> [ THIS ](http://sterndecorum.tumblr.com/post/153789949548/art-for-fic-hope-you-like-u-bg-credit) artwork by sterndecorum and [ THIS ](http://royal-society-of-pandas.tumblr.com/post/153774708142/like-your-french-girls-by-ebenroot-alright) artwork by royal-society-of-pandas. *tom haverford voice* they're beautiful. I've stared at them for five hours now. I'm just I'm always amazed that people pay attention to my writing I'm just a simpleton that likes to write and people LIKE IT I'm so OTL thank you. 
> 
> just thank you everyone

_> can we talk?_

Victor looks down at the phone screen, then quickly back up when he hears Christophe ask him a question.

“Huh?” he asks. Christophe smirks.

“I said, is this all you have to show me?” he repeats, running his finger along the side of the last few canvases recently submitted and needing to be framed along with the others. Victor tucks his phone away into his back pocket and sighs.

“Yeah. . .I know there’s still no ending,” Victor mumbles. He also knows that the amount of artwork that he can use won’t fill this space that Christophe has placed for him. It’s a decent amount, but Victor wants the artwork displayed close together as if it’s a timeline of events. The artwork of Yuuri skating is supposed to be viewed as a continuous segue of paintings, but with the space Victor has now it will be split up and look choppy.

Christophe shrugs, tapping his finger against his bottom lip and then lightly bites on the tip. His assistant beside him looks grateful that Christophe isn’t fellating a pen like before, but the finger isn’t helping things much since they’re still squirming.

Christophe snaps his fingers and the assistant jumps in their spot. “Switch Victor and J.J.’s displays. Reprint the floor plan and send a copy to J.J. to update him on the change,” he says and the assistant gives a nod of the head, running off to get the needed paperwork and make the calls.

Victor bites the inside of his cheek, but doesn’t protest. Christophe hums, pinching a lock of his blond hair between his fingertips.

“The artwork that you have will be better suited in a smaller, more intimate area of the exhibition. Plus, we’ll have more room to accommodate another artist’s pieces,” Christophe explains. He doesn’t look particularly happy about the decision, but it’s not like he can just accept the product Victor is giving him just because they’re friends.

Victor nods his head in agreement. “Their work will fill this space up?” Victor asks and Christophe rubs his chin.

“It should. This is his first exhibition on referral from a colleague of mine at the university. His work is. . .interesting,” Christophe says with a smile and glances back at the artwork Victor has brought in. “I can’t say that I feel this is your best exhibition. It’s completely unlike your original work in the past. . .is he that special?” Christophe asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Your muse. I at first thought this was something you were experimenting with, but now I see you’re serious,” Christophe says and narrows his eyebrows, “I’m not sure if your art is getting better or worse if the focus is only on him. What’s going to happen when he doesn’t inspire you anymore? When you go back into your creative slump?”

“It’s not. I still have lots of ideas-”

“But your art _surprises_ people. You always thought outside the box and used subjects that no one else would think of. Your muse is beautiful, and the art you produce of him is pleasant to look at for the time being. But eventually, people will grow bored of it. _You’ll_ grow bored of it. And you and I both know what happens when you grow bored of something,” Christophe drawls. He slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks, tilting his head to the side.

“For you, I’ll take any more submissions up to the first week of February to be added during the exhibition’s run. But they’ll have to fit in your new space. Otherwise, this will be it,” Christophe states and Victor closes his eyes.

“Right. . .I understand.”

A hand gently rests on his shoulder and he looks, Christophe smiling at him.

“It might be better for you as an artist to find a different muse. Either that, or for your muse to inspire you in different ways. . .introduce me to him at the pre-show,” Christophe says with an overly friendly tone.

“Why? Are you going to tell him that he should make me look for inspiration elsewhere?” Victor asks with a smile of his own. Christophe squeezes his shoulder.

“I just want you to produce the art that everyone is coming to this exhibition to see. If he’s getting in the way of that, maybe I have a _few_ words to say.”

“Well _don’t_ ,” Victor says flatly, and moves Christophe’s hand off his shoulder. “I should leave. They’re warning about a snowstorm approaching and I’d prefer to be indoors,” Victor says as Christophe’s assistant returns to the curator’s side with a stack of paperwork needing to be signed and approved.

Victor takes his stack and tucks it under his arm as Christophe takes the paperwork from his assistant and gives a wink as thanks. The assistant nearly falls to the ground in bliss.

“I’ll be heading out too,” Christophe mentions. Victor barely pays any attention, already reaching for his phone to look at the text message from Yuuri.

Can they talk?

No doubt it’s about the incident. It’s been exactly one week since that night; every time Victor thinks about it, it’s like he can taste Yuuri in his mouth and feels his soft body against his own. The feeling is instantly followed by an overwhelming sense of guilt and self-disgust, and Victor tries to busy himself to keep from thinking about Yuuri crying and the fear in his eyes.

“Victor,” Christophe calls out and Victor glances up again. Christophe smiles, “He doesn’t have to be your muse _and_ your lover. You can find inspiration elsewhere and still keep him by your side if you’re so fond of him.”

Victor just hums, moving the paperwork into his hands to wave goodbye and leave without another word.

 

* * *

 

It's just his luck that there's nothing in his fridge when he checks it. Well, there's some leftover takeout from three weeks ago, but he doesn't want to spend the rest of the night with his head hanging in the toilet.

Makkachin circles around the front door, barking and wagging his tail as Victor runs his hand through his hair and exits the kitchen devoid of food.

“No walks tonight, Makkachin. It’s too much snow for us to try and trek through,” Victor says with a smile and turns on the heater. He sighs, crashing onto the couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, taking his cell phone to look at Yuuri’s text message. It’s been two hours since it’s been sent, and Victor still doesn’t know how to respond. 

He got an earful from Mila when Phichit gave her the details, along with a not-so-good-natured punch to the chest that had him wheezing for a few minutes. Yuri has banned him from the smoothie shop and isn’t allowed to come back until he gets his shit together. But every time that Victor opens Yuuri’s contact, thumb over the call button, he exits out immediately. He knows that they need to talk, he _wants_ to talk, but he doesn’t know what he can even say.

He crossed a line, as a friend and as a lover _and_ as someone paying Yuuri to model for him. The one thing Victor _desperately_ didn’t want to do, and he did it. Yuuri is supposed to be _special_ , and he’s doing the exact same thing he’s done with his exes. It became less about being concerned for Yuuri’s well-being and wanting to give him space, and more about Victor trying to find an easy way to gloss over the pain he caused. Like he always does.

Yuuri deserves better than this. Yuuri is _beautiful_ and _perfect_ and he deserves someone who can comfort him the way he needs to be comforted. He needs someone that loves him and _shows_ that they love him a lot better than Victor can. He needs someone that isn’t Victor; Victor knows he’s a shitty lover, and Yuuri doesn’t need him as his first experience and ruining love for him.

Victor sighs and slumps into his cushion, looking up at the ceiling. It’s better for Yuuri, he tries to tell himself. Yuuri will still have that beautiful shine in his eyes that someone will take care to never see it replaced with tears. They’ll be so kind to him, give him all the beauty of love that Victor could never give his past lovers.

A sigh escapes Victor’s lips. Maybe it’s better for him to be by himself, lonely. The only heart he’ll screw up with, will be his own.

He then jumps in his spot when there’s a knock at his door.

Makkachin perks up and instantly runs to the door, while Victor gets up to his feet and looks at the clock. Who’s here at this hour? Yuri should be at home by now. He runs a hand through his hair and scoots Makkachin over with his foot, unlocking the door and opening it.

He blinks.

Yuuri is standing on the other side of the door, wrapped up in a puffy coat with fur lining the hood and his blue scarf. In his grasp are groceries, and Victor notes with surprise that Yuuri’s wearing the mittens and his left hand isn’t trapped in a karate chop position. He looks back up to Yuuri’s face, beautiful blush from the cold over the bridge of his nose and eyes sparkling.

They would have stared at each other for another minute or so, but Makkachin pushes past Victor’s legs to jump and greet Yuuri with a happy bark. Yuuri smiles and places the groceries down at Victor’s feet, getting to his knees to snuggle the poodle in a soft hug.

“I missed you too, Makkachin,” Yuuri says, laughing when Makkachin nuzzles his head underneath Yuuri's chin. Yuuri gets to his feet as Victor grabs the groceries from the floor before Makkachin accidentally tramples over them.

“Hey,” Yuuri starts, voice quiet and gentle.

“Hey,” Victor greets. Yuuri smiles, rocking back and forth onto his heels.

“Can I come in?” he asks and Victor nods his head, stepping aside to allow Yuuri and Makkachin to come back into the apartment. Victor closes the door with his foot, watching as Yuuri sheds his winter coat and takes it into his arms. His eyes follow the curve of Yuuri’s figure in the black turtleneck, then moves back up to look in Yuuri’s eyes as the skater turns to face him.

“. . .What?” Yuuri asks and Victor shakes his head, putting on a smile for now.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” he says and looks at the groceries in his hand that Yuuri brought with him. He sees that there’s some eggs and meat, some rice and various seasonings and sauces. Victor moves to the kitchen and sets the groceries on the kitchen counter, watching as Yuuri leans against the couch with his eyes on Victor.

“. . .How come you brought groceries?” Victor eventually asks when the usually comfortable silence they share starts to feel a little bit too tense and thick. Yuuri starts to busy himself with the bottom of his sweater, pale fingers stark against the fabric.

“The blizzard warning made me worry that you didn’t have anything in your fridge and you’ll go hungry tonight. So, I thought that I could cook dinner for the both of us,” Yuuri says, like it’s nothing but a suggestion that Victor can accept or decline.

“What about Phichit?” Victor asks and Yuuri shrugs, looking down at his feet.

“He has a guest. He’ll be fine.”

“. . .But didn’t you want to talk about something?”

“So you _did_ see my text.”

Ah. Well, Victor walked right into that one.

Victor rubs the back of his neck and moves to stand beside Yuuri, not making eye contact.

“I did. . .Yuuri-”

“Do you love me?” Yuuri asks.

Victor feels the wind knocked out of him.

Yuuri is now looking up at Victor, waiting for a response. He moves from standing beside Victor to standing in front of him, and digs his hands into Victor’s shirt to pull him down so their foreheads are pressed against each other. Yuuri’s eyes are still sparkling and they’re _far_ too close. Victor’s mind is reeling from this sudden confidence, tongue heavy in his mouth and throat suddenly dry.

“Please. . .just tell me that you’re in love with me. That you’re _still_ in love with me,” Yuuri murmurs, breath warm over Victor’s lips. It’s a soft plea, one that speaks more words than Yuuri has just said. Victor swallows, reaching to take Yuuri’s hands clutching at his shirt into his grasp. He brings them up to his lips, kissing each finger and his knuckles.

“Yuuri. . .I’m sorry,” he murmurs against Yuuri’s knuckles and closes his eyes. “You deserve so much better than me. Someone that knows how to treat someone as beautiful and perfect as you better than I did,” he says with a sad little chuckle. He kisses Yuuri’s knuckles again, but Yuuri’s hands are snatched out of his grasp. His eyes pop open in confusion just in time for Yuuri to wrap his arms around Victor’s neck and shoot up onto his tip toes to clumsily kiss Victor on the mouth.

It’s gentle, but at the same time forceful. It’s awkward, yet at the same time sweet. Yuuri tastes a lot better than the kiss they shared fueled on alcohol, like lemonade and cool mint and that brand of lip balm Victor uses on occasion. His lips are nice and soft, and his tongue is inexperienced and wet. There’s teeth that scrape against Victor’s lower lip, some biting when Yuuri doesn’t try to. His glasses are pushed at an angle against Victor’s nose, the frames digging into the side and rubbing against Victor’s skin uncomfortably. It’s an absolute mess of a kiss, but it is by far the most passionate and purest kiss that Victor’s ever had in his lifetime.

Victor allows himself to indulge in this kiss for only a few seconds, before he pulls away and holds Yuuri back by his waist.

“Wait, we can’t-”

“Why can’t we?” Yuuri asks, grabbing Victor’s wrists and trying to move back into Victor’s grasp. Victor still holds Yuuri at arm’s length, trying to resist the urge to pull Yuuri back in.

“Because I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that! I didn’t mean to do any of those things. I didn’t mean to make you cry-” Victor tries to apologize. Yuuri bites his lower lip.

“So what?” Yuuri says, voice trembling. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not in love with me?”

“No, _no_. That’s not it-”

“Then _what?_ Because I’m in love with _you_ and I _know_ you’re in love with me. So why are you holding back? Why are you trying to push me away again?” Yuuri asks and Victor bites his lower lip.

“Because I don’t want to _hurt you_. Yuuri, I admit it. I’m the _worst_ person for you to fall in love with. I look for the easy way out and I never fix my problems and I just make them _worse_. You don’t deserve that. You deserve someone that can give you everything you need and is just as perfect and-”

“Stop it. _Stop_ ,” Yuuri says, dropping his head and shoulders beginning to shake. “I’m not perfect. I’m _not_.”

“Yes you are,” Victor says softly, cupping Yuuri’s cheek. “You’re perfect and _beautiful_ and you deserve to be happier with-”

“But I want _you!_ ” Yuuri’s voice croaks. Victor feels his hand growing wet and he tilts Yuuri’s face up towards him. Tears are streaming down Yuuri’s cheeks, but they’re not of sadness. They’re of frustration and confusion, falling in heavy drops that stain the cuff of Victor’s shirt.

“Why? Why are you saying something like this, like it’s something _I_ want? I don’t want anyone else _but_ you. Why are you trying to make a decision for me without letting me even _talk?_ ” Yuuri cries and Victor tries to wipe the tears away.

“No, no. This is what I’ve been trying to avoid-”

“I don’t _want_ you to avoid it!” Yuuri yells and now the tears are falling _quicker_ and Victor is _panicking_. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re walking on a minefield with me!” Yuuri snaps, voice a warble of hurt and anger. “You avoiding me like this is _so much worse_.”

The tears are falling in big, ugly drops and Yuuri’s lips are trembling. Red blotches his cheeks and rims his eyes, revealing all the ugly fragility underneath. Victor doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to make this better. He doesn’t know how to make this _go away_. He doesn’t know if sorry will be good enough to stop Yuuri from sniffling; he’s _never_ been good with people crying in front of him. His eyes go down to Yuuri’s lips, soft and twisted into an ugly grimace.

Victor quickly leans down and kisses Yuuri, silencing the hiccup that slips out of his throat. Yuuri’s lips taste a bit salty from the tears as Victor’s tongue presses against Yuuri’s bottom lip. He kisses slow and languid, working Yuuri’s mouth open as he pulls Yuuri into his arms and traces his fingers up Yuuri’s spine, trying to still the tremors in Yuuri’s body.

When Victor pulls back, their lips make a quiet ‘pop’. Yuuri looks up at Victor, cheeks wet and eyes still glistening.

Victor gives a soft smile, thumbing away a tear caught in Yuuri’s wet eyelashes behind his glasses. There’s a few seconds of silence between them, tension melting off Victor’s body as he pulls Yuuri close for a hug. Victor feels the slow rise and fall of Yuuri’s shoulders as he breathes and calms himself down from the crying. His thumb moves to run itself against Yuuri’s bottom lip, wiping the taste of tears clean off.

He watches the chocolate swirl of Yuuri’s eyes move from soft confusion to. . .

Hurt.

And _anger_.

That’s. . .that’s not supposed to happen.

Yuuri shoves away from Victor’s embrace and grabs his coat to pull on. Makkachin is whimpering again, eyes begging Yuuri not to leave as he wraps his scarf around his neck and pulls on his mittens.

“Yuuri,” Victor calls out, reaching out to grab him. Yuuri doesn’t turn around to look at him, opening the front door and slamming it shut behind him. Victor curses under his breath and throws the door open to see Yuuri walking to the elevator.

“Yuuri!” Victor yells, but the skater doesn’t stop walking. Victor barely has time to step into his shoes haphazardly and grab his keys before he closes the door shut and chases after Yuuri.

“Yuuri!” Victor shouts and Yuuri hunches his shoulders up to his ears, like he’s trying to block out Victor calling his name. “Yuuri! Where are you going?!”

“I’m making it easier for you to avoid me. I’m going home,” Yuuri finally answers and Victor reaches out to grab Yuuri’s wrist and yank him backwards.

“It’s a _blizzard_ outside, Yuuri. You can’t go back to your place in a _blizzard_.”

“Yes I _can_ , and I’m going to! Let me go!” Yuuri shouts, trying to twist out of Victor’s grasp. Victor frowns, trying to stop Yuuri from thrashing around in his hold.

“You said you wanted to talk!”

“But _you_ don’t. What was that kiss for? To just shut me up? That wasn’t what I wanted!” Yuuri snaps, glaring at Victor with redness around his eyes. Victor swallows at the realization that that was _exactly_ what that kiss was for. It came so naturally for Victor to do, and he gets upset that he expected it to work like it did with his past lovers. Maybe it never worked, maybe he just pretended it did and ignored the aftermath.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_. Just tell me what to do,” Victor begs, _pleads_.

“I want you to let go of my wrist,” Yuuri says with a huff. Victor does so, then quickly wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist when the skater tries to turn tail and _run_.

“Put me down! Let me go!” Yuuri yells as Victor literally drags Yuuri back to his apartment. The tenant from 4B opens their door as Victor passes by with Yuuri kicking and screaming in his grasp.

“You two are being noisy!” they yell and Victor doesn't have the _time_ for this.

“Leave us alone!” he yells at the exact same time Yuuri snaps at the tenant. The tenant gives them both an offended look, but Victor doesn’t care and neither does Yuuri apparently. He opens the door and tugs Yuuri back inside, closing the door with his foot as Yuuri breaks away from him.

“Yuuri, it’s snowing too hard outside for you to leave. So, we’re going to sit here and we’re going to _talk_ like you want. I _want_ to talk,” Victor says. But Yuuri just starts walking to Victor’s bedroom instead, entering and slamming the door shut behind him.

Are you _fucking serious?_

“Yuuri!” Victor shouts and goes to the bedroom door, jiggling the doorknob to find that Yuuri has locked it. Victor bangs his fist on the door. “Yuuri, this is _my_ bedroom! Yuuri!” Victor yells and slumps against the floor. This _isn’t_ his beautiful muse; this is just _annoying_.

“Yuuri~” Victor groans. “What do you _want?_ What do you want me to _do?_ ”

No response.

“Yuuri,” Victor says in the gentlest voice he can muster while irritancy boils behind his eyes, “ _solnyshko_ ~ _My beautiful muse~_. _Please_ , open the door~”

He knocks on the door again, jiggles the doorknob once more. Faintly, he hears something landing on his mattress and the covers billowing on impact. Victor hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

This is uncharted territory for Victor. He’s had fights with his lovers, but he usually just steers clear whenever they’re angry and waits for them to cool down and sweep it under the rug. He gave Yuuri his space and apparently, that _wasn’t_ the best option. And now when he _tries_ to talk to Yuuri, he’s given the silent treatment. What is he supposed to _do?_

He needs some help.

 

* * *

 

“ _Haha, so you managed to piss him off again?_ ” 

Victor winces. Phichit’s tone isn’t angry like he thought it would be after hearing he’s hurt Yuuri _again_. It’s teasing and cheerful, like he knew this was going to happen and is enjoying Victor struggling and stumbling to court Yuuri.

“I. . .yeah, I did,” he eventually says, not sure how to put it in another way that doesn't make Victor sound stupid.

“ _Wow, it’s a good thing he likes you so much. He doesn’t get angry that easy and you managed to do it **twice** in one week!_” Phichit sounds like this is some accomplishment Victor should be proud of.

“What do I do? He won’t come out and I don’t know what to _do_ ,” Victor groans aloud.

Victor’s nearly tried everything. He sat by the door and called Yuuri every pet name he could think of, layering on a sickly-sweet tone that just left a bad taste in his mouth because they all sounded fake and forced, and it didn’t fool Yuuri either.

In a minor act of pettiness, Victor turned off the heater to see if he can somehow _freeze_ Yuuri out of his bedroom. He realized after the chill started go up through his spine that it was the stupidest plan ever, because Yuuri is in his bedroom where there’s _blankets_ and a mini battery-powered heater stored in the closet to be used during blackouts. Victor switched the heater back on when he felt his hands growing numb from waiting. The heat is still trying to circulate through the apartment and warm everything back up.

The last effort was Makkachin, because Makkachin _always_ made Yuuri happy. Victor complained that Makkachin was sad that Yuuri was acting so stubborn and he wanted them _both_ to talk, paired with Makkachin whimpering and scratching at the bedroom door on Victor’s command. It _did_ get Yuuri to open the door, but the literal second Makkachin was fully inside the bedroom, Yuuri slammed the door back in Victor’s face. Victor wasted a minute cursing at the door in Russian before slumping against the wall in defeat and sought out a lifeline.

“ _You really love him, don’t you?_ ”

“Of _course_ I do. I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I just-” Victor drops his head and sighs deep. “Can you please tell me how to make him happy? _Please?_ ”

He’s sure that Phichit hears the desperation in his voice, since what the Thai man says next is softer and kinder.

“ _He’s a stubborn ass at times when he’s angry. Honestly, you shouldn’t try to force him to get over it. It’s better to just let him be mad at you and let him work it out at his own pace. He’ll come around eventually, and **then** you talk. If you try and talk to him now, he’s just going to think you’re trying to hurry up and get it over with._”

“But he’s been in there for an hour.”

“ _Hmm, what did you say to him?_ ”

“Nothing! . . .At least, I don’t think? I-” Victor rubs his face, “I don’t know. I just. . .I didn’t think he should be with me because all I do is hurt him and I’m just not good with taking care of someone. He started to cry and I kissed him and it just-”

“ _Spiraled out of control?_ ”

“Pretty much.”

Phichit hums. “ _. . .Let him cool down. You’ll know when he’s ready to talk, and when’s the **right time** to kiss him._”

“. . .Right. . .okay. . .” Victor sighs. Patience, of course.

“ _Listen to him and just let him talk. Just because it’s a blizzard doesn’t mean I won’t grab a shovel and dig my way over there to kick your butt if you treat him wrong again, got it?_ ” Phichit scolds.

Victor smiles. “Yeah. . .I won’t.”

 

* * *

 

Victor turns on the television to the weather broadcast station and watches the report for just enough time to know that they’ll be snowed in the building at least until the next morning. He sorts through the groceries Yuuri bought and thinks about maybe surprising Yuuri with dinner. But when he remembers there isn’t enough food in his house to make another dinner in case Victor botches this one, he decides against it. He’s not even sure what dish Yuuri planned to make with these ingredients anyways. He can throw together watercolors and pastels and call it ‘art’, but he sure as hell can’t throw together ingredients and call it ‘edible’. 

He grabs his sketchbook and pencil bag, and takes a seat on the ground. Victor leans up against the bedroom door, sketchbook situated in his lap and pencil between his fingers. He draws out a game of tic-tac-toe and puts a circle in the top left corner, tearing the page out of his book. Victor slips the paper underneath the door, followed by a pencil. It’s stupid, but Victor is just about desperate for _any_ sort of response from Yuuri.

He goes back to his sketchbook, drawing small portraits of faces from his memory. The detailed portraits turn into silly little doodles; he’s quite fond of the one of Makkachin flying an airplane over St. Basil’s Cathedral. He draws flowers, he writes his name, he writes Yuuri’s name, and then wonders what Yuuri’s name would look like with his last name attached to it. The page begins to look like a page out of a lovesick high-schooler’s notebook instead a grown man’s sketchbook, Yuuri’s name written in different fonts and strokes, surrounded with hearts and cartoony drawings of Yuuri and Victor.

When he absently starts drawing Yuuri’s eyes out of habit, the piece of paper is slipped back underneath the door beside Victor, an ‘X’ drawn in the middle box. Victor jumps, dropping his sketchbook and reaching for the doorknob, but stills. He puts his hand down, calming his excitement for a few moments as he just doodles in a circle next to the one he drew in the beginning, slipping it back underneath the door.

The paper is returned after a minute, another ‘X’ placed in the spot to keep Victor from getting three-in-a-row.

Yuuri wins the first game after the paper is passed back and forth underneath the door a few times. Victor draws out another game right next to it asking for a rematch, to which Yuuri complies and draws the first ‘X’ in the bottom right corner. They don’t exchange words, not even any written. But Victor feels so _happy_ regardless, settling into a comfortable silence that is only filled with the sound of his pencil against the paper and the slide of it going underneath his door.

He watches the strokes of Yuuri’s lines to make the ‘X’, and waits until they aren’t so dark and thick from a heavy hand, but are made from light quick strokes. After Yuuri has won three times and Victor has only one twice, Victor writes a message.

 

_Can we talk?_

He slips the paper back underneath and patiently waits.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Victor hears the lock come off his door. Victor gets to his feet and slowly opens the door, peeking inside. Yuuri has his back to him and is crawling back onto Victor’s bed. His winter boots are on the floor next to Victor’s nightstand where his glasses rest upon, arranged nicely beside Victor’s slippers that have become Makkachin’s second favorite chew toy. Makkachin is lying beside Yuuri, cuddled nice in Yuuri’s grasp.

 _You traitor_ , Victor mentally communicates to his dog with a stern look. Makkachin’s ears perk and he tucks his head underneath Yuuri’s chin, not even apologetic.

Victor sighs and goes to the side of the bed, mentally debating his next move. He climbs into bed after a minute or so, and gives about a foot of space between him and Yuuri, choosing to take his time and move when he feels it’s the right moment. Yuuri doesn’t respond to the bed’s sudden dip in weight, nor does he speak up. Victor lies on his back, patting his thighs as he looks up at the ceiling.

“. . .I’m an asshole,” Victor murmurs, voice groggy in his throat. Yuuri doesn’t respond, but Victor knows that he’s listening. So, Victor continues.

“I always thought I was doing the right thing by ending the relationship with my lovers when things felt like they were running stale, but I never thought about how they felt, or tried to actually work to fix the situation. I move on like I never loved them in the first place, and I just repeat the same thing over and over again without learning from my mistakes. I didn’t care if they were happy with me, sad, angry; I felt sorry that it had to end the way that it did, but I was just stroking my own ego. . .but with _you_. . .all I want is for you to be happy.”

Yuuri’s shoulders relax. Victor scoots in just a little bit closer.

“I love you, Yuuri. I love you _so much_ and I’ve loved you for so _long_. Whenever you smile, or when you laugh, or when I’m _touching you_. . .I just feel so _happy_. I know that you don’t think you’re beautiful, but you _are_. When you’re skating on the ice, you’re beautiful. That nose scrunch thing you do after you taste your coffee and there’s not enough sugar is _beautiful_. Your eyes, your lips, your skin and your smile makes me ache all over,” Victor confesses, words spilling past his lips dripping with so many emotions.

It feels strange to speak like this, to feel his voice quiver in such a way that he feels he may choke. He moves closer and lets his hand slide over the curve of Yuuri’s waist, pressing his front against Yuuri’s back and tucking his chin in the crook of Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri’s breathing is steady and his body is warm against Victor’s. He dips his nose into Yuuri’s hair and inhales Yuuri’s scent, then kisses behind his ear.

“I want to be whatever you want me to be. I want to be whatever it is that’ll make you the happiest and I want it to be _perfect_ cause you deserve nothing less than perfection. . .I wish I wasn’t so selfish and greedy. I’d have let you find someone that will treat you better and fuck up less,” Victor mutters.

“. . .I don’t care about that.”

Yuuri’s voice is so quiet, but it’s so gentle and still holds so much fondness for Victor. Victor breathes a sigh of relief against the back of Yuuri’s neck, pulling him more into his body to seek out as much contact as possible.

“I never asked you to be perfect,” Yuuri murmurs. “I don’t want you to be perfect. . .I just want you to be ‘Victor’. . .I don’t care if you’re a terrible cook, or that you eat Kit-Kat bars wrong, or that you have a terrible sense of humor. I don’t care if you think you’re a horrible lover and you make mistakes, I just want you to let me love you and let me make my own decision. Even if you end up hurting me, even if you end up getting bored with me, I still want the chance to call you ‘mine’.”

“I’ll _never_ get bored of you,” Victor says, shocked that Yuuri even _thought_ of something like that.

Yuuri turns in his grasp and releases Makkachin, wrapping arms around Victor. His eyes are puffy, but he’s no longer crying. His hair is a mess and his cheeks are flushed from exhaustion. Victor brushes Yuuri’s bangs back, letting his hand graze over Yuuri’s cheek and his fingers thread through Yuuri’s hair. Makkachin hops off the bed and exits the bedroom, giving them some private time with a happy little wag of his tail.

“I _know_ ,” Yuuri says, like he feels foolish for saying it in the first place. “That doesn’t mean I don’t think about it, that I _didn’t_ think about it this entire time. Every day, I woke up wondering when will it be the day that you’ll tell me you don’t need to see me anymore. _I’m_ the one that’s selfish and greedy. . .that night when you watched me skate that program, I was so happy that your eyes were only on me and you only thought of me. I didn’t _want_ anyone else to see me skate like that. That program was for your eyes only.”

Victor chuckles lightly. “And you were stunning,” he compliments. Yuuri averts his eyes, lightly biting his lower lip.

“I don’t feel so. . .I don’t feel beautiful and I still don’t have much confidence in myself. . .but I don’t care. I want you, I _love_ you,” Yuuri confides and his hands clench tight in the back of Victor’s shirt, tangling his fingers in the material.

“I know that you’re not perfect. I know that you’ll make mistakes and make me mad and I’m going to do the exact same,” Yuuri murmurs.

“You’re not going to make me angry,” Victor says and kisses the crown of Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri tilts his head up to look at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear you yelling when I slammed the door in your face,” Yuuri snaps and Victor winces.

“. . .Okay, you made me mad,” Victor admits. Yuuri gives a smile, corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Good.” Yuuri sounds satisfied at that. Victor tries not to think too hard about it.

“Point is,” Yuuri continues, holding Victor’s wrist and rubbing his thumb over the pulse point, “Despite all of that, despite all my insecurities about myself, despite your worries about being a good lover to me, despite us fighting and all the tears and the yelling, I still want us to be together. I still want you with all your flaws and your fuck-ups.”

Victor smiles. “Yuuri,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper. Yuuri tucks his head underneath Victor’s chin, his face in Victor’s chest.

“And you’ll take me as is too, right? You still want me even though I’m not like am in your paintings?” Yuuri asks, voice muffled. Victor pulls back, tilting Yuuri’s chin up towards him.

“Of _course_ I will. . .I’m sorry that I put you on such a high pedestal that you didn’t think you can climb down from,” Victor says, brushing his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “In my eyes, you _are_ beautiful. You enthrall me so much that sometimes I forget that you’re even a human with flaws like everyone else,” Victor says and presses their foreheads together.

“Don’t think you have to live up to perfection that only exists on paper. I’d much rather have you than someone that can only exist in my imagination,” Victor says with a soft smile. He kisses Yuuri’s forehead and squeezes him tight. “I want _you_ , Yuuri Katsuki. With all your clumsiness and stubbornness, and all your soft and squishy parts,” Victor says and squeezes Yuuri’s hip in a way that makes Yuuri laugh from the touch.

Yuuri lets his fingers run through Victor’s hair, then slides his hand down and thumbs along Victor’s jawline. Victor lets himself drown in the softness of Yuuri’s eyes, noticing all the little flecks of hazel that he didn’t see before now. His heart thuds in sync with Yuuri’s beating against his chest, a rhythmic beat that relaxes Victor and makes Yuuri go boneless in his arms.

Yuuri tucks his head underneath Victor’s chin, tangling their legs together. A few seconds later, Victor hears a low stomach growl.

“Should we make dinner?” Victor asks with a smile and Yuuri hums.

“In a moment. Just. . .” Victor feels Yuuri’s fist tighten in the back of his shirt. Victor understands.

Victor dips his nose back into Yuuri’s hair and closes his eyes, letting his hand move up and down from Yuuri’s waist to his thigh in slow strokes. He memorizes the curve of Yuuri’s body, the soft and firmness beneath his fingertips, and relishes how there’ll be many more nights to come where he gets to know and love Yuuri, body and mind.

 

* * *

  

Pork cutlet bowls are mana from Heaven.

Victor finishes his in a matter of minutes, interjecting mouthfuls with cries of ‘vkusno!’ and ‘delicious!’ and mild choking because he inhales before he chews. Yuuri chides him to not talk with his mouth full, warm blush over his cheeks at Victor enjoying his cooking. They wash dishes together afterwards, Victor handling the wash while Yuuri dries and stores them back in the shelves with Victor’s guidance. Victor feeds Makkachin his dinner, and both retire to the couch to watch the current weather report.

The snowplows will be out clearing the streets. . .Yuuri _can_ go home if he wants. Victor hums to himself, rubbing little circles into Yuuri’s shoulder as Yuuri rests his head against Victor’s chest and listens to his heartbeat.

“. . .Lots of snow still out there,” Victor comments, making small talk. He hears Yuuri give a quiet laugh against him, smiling into Victor’s chest.

“Yeah.”

“. . .It’s so much snow that it might be difficult if someone tried to leave.”

Yuuri plays with the bottom of Victor’s shirt. “I guess that someone should stay put then until the morning,” he says, pinching the fabric between his fingers.

“. . .But only if that someone _wants_ to stay.”

“I’m pretty sure they want to stay. . .does the person that is offering the someone a place to stay _want_ them to stay?” Yuuri asks and Victor kisses the side of Yuuri’s temple.

“Yes, they do.”

Yuuri smiles, resting his chin on Victor’s chest. “Then that someone should make a phone call and let their roommate know they’ll be coming home tomorrow morning,” Yuuri says, untangling himself from Victor’s grasp. He gets to his feet and straightens out his turtleneck, then bends down and kisses Victor on the forehead. Yuuri saunters away to the bedroom to make his phone call, while Victor rests his hand on his forehead just where Yuuri had kissed him.

He waits until he hears Yuuri faintly talking to Phichit, before he gets to his feet and quietly heads into the bathroom. Victor does about ten fist pumps, bounces from the door to his bathtub in large leaps, and whisper-screams at his ecstatic expression in the mirror, before he regains his composure and exits to prepare some hot chocolate to drink.

The excitement doesn’t leave him as he offers Yuuri the shower first and some old clothes for him to sleep in. It nearly skyrockets when Yuuri exits the bathroom after an hour or so wearing Victor’s old university sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair fluffy and smelling like Victor’s shampoo. The ensemble is far too big on Yuuri’s figure; the sweatshirt is stretched out in such a way that the collar always reveals a slip of Yuuri’s shoulder when he moves. His sweatpants hang on Yuuri’s hips and the cuffs pool at his feet. There’s flecks of paint staining the pants in the shape of Victor’s hands, some on the stomach of the shirt as well.

“Want me to get you something else?” Victor asks and Yuuri shakes his head, bringing the stretched out collar up to his nose and closes his eyes.

“It smells like you,” Yuuri breathes. Victor’s not sure what he smells like. Maybe like paint and poodles and like a bachelor. It’s a scent Yuuri must like, whatever it is, since he smells it for a few seconds, then gets embarrassed and apologizes for being weird. Victor kisses him on the cheek in response.

They cuddle on the couch with some hot chocolate and freshly popped popcorn, wherein Victor had to resist the urge to lick the bag after pouring all the popcorn out into the bowl. Nothing is on the television that night aside from the weather warning, so Victor busies himself with playing with Yuuri’s hair and opening his mouth to accept the handful of popcorn Yuuri feeds him every so often.

When the late-night infomercials start airing and Victor starts to hear light snoring coming from his chest, he gently shakes Yuuri awake by the shoulder.

“Time for bed, my beautiful muse,” Victor whispers and Yuuri gives a tired grunt, rubbing at his eyes. Victor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s waist and gets them both to their feet, leading a groggy and tired Yuuri down the hall to the bedroom. He pulls back the covers and nudges Yuuri into bed, who flops over onto his stomach with a lazy yawn. Victor smiles, brushing his fingers along the side of Yuuri’s face to slip off his glasses. He neatly folds them and places them onto the nightstand, then pulls the covers back over Yuuri’s figure.

Victor turns to grab a couple of blankets for him to sleep on the couch, bundling them up into his arms and carrying them out to the living room. He looks down at Makkachin in his bed, tail wagging and head tilted in confusion.

“You’re going to keep me company, Makkachin?” Victor asks. Makkachin’s ears perk and he stares at Victor for a few seconds, before he gets up and bolts to Victor’s bedroom.

“Hey! Makkachin!” Victor shouts and runs after his dog, stopping at the doorway. Yuuri is already cuddling Makkachin in his arms, out like a light. Makkachin is feigning sleep, he knows it, but Victor can’t bring himself to break the two of them up. He sighs and breathes in through his nose, taking his blankets to the couch to sleep. By himself. Without his dog. Tch, _man’s best friend_.

He sheds his clothes into a pile and shoves it underneath his coffee table. Victor switches on the light by his couch and grabs his sketchbook, slipping underneath a couple of blankets and getting comfortable. He takes a loose pencil wedged underneath the paperwork he still needs to look through and sign, and begins to sketch until his eyes grow too heavy to stay open any longer.

 

* * *

  

Victor awakes to the sound of dishes clattering in his kitchen, and a sudden heavy weight on his stomach. He blinks, groans when he knocks over his sketchbook on his chest and groans _louder_ when he feels a sharp pain in his back. The weight on his stomach shifts and he tries to blink himself awake as something wet moves over his cheek and his nose. 

“So,” Victor grumbles out in Russian, too tired to open his eyes to give a glare, “you have decided to come sleep with me, you traitor.”

Makkachin licks Victor’s face and his nose. Curse him for being so damn adorable.

Victor gives Makkachin a good morning hug and pats the dog on the back to get off him. He sits up, wiping his face with his arm and trying to register what’s going to on.

First off, it’s too fucking early.

Victor _never_ wakes up early. If he manages to have his pants on before noon, that’s a miracle in of itself. He turns to look over his shoulder towards the kitchen, vision clearing up to see Yuuri on his tiptoes reaching to grab some. . . _thing_ out of his cupboard. Victor yawns, forcing himself up to his feet and approaches with the speed of a zombie.

“Yuuri, my beautiful muse,” Victor’s voice croaks out of his throat in between tired grunts, “what are you doing?”

“I thought I could make waffles since you have a waffle iron,” Yuuri explains without looking over his shoulder at Victor.

“. . .I have a waffle iron?”

Yuuri laughs, turning to give a smile that shouldn’t _exist_ at eight – seven? Nine? What time is it even? It’s so _early_ – as he readies a mixing bowl. He then takes a good look at Victor, still very much sleep deprived, and quickly turns his head back to his ingredients.

“. . .You’re in your underwear,” Yuuri points out after a few minutes, ears red.

Victor hums, looking down at his figure and shrugs at his black briefs.

“So I am,” he says, not understanding the gravity of the situation. Yuuri seems to be struggling to keep his head turned out of respect for Victor, but he’s also cheating by staring at Victor’s reflection in the mixing bowl he’s holding. Victor yawns again, running a hand through his messed-up fringe.

“You need help?” Victor asks and Yuuri jumps.

“A-Ah, I’m fine,” Yuuri pipes up, and begins to crack some eggs. Victor scratches his stomach, licking his lips as he goes to start brewing some coffee at least. Makkachin pads into the kitchen as Victor pours the water into his coffee maker first, rubbing himself against Victor’s legs as he dumps half of his small bag of Napoli ground coffee into the filter.

“Right, right, breakfast,” Victor mumbles, closing the coffee brewer. Yuuri is humming a soft little tune, keeping his cooking area neat and tidy as he beats in the flour and baking soda with a whisk Victor didn’t even knew he owns. Victor gets to his knees and grabs a can of dog food for Makkachin in the cupboard underneath, popping it open and pouring it into Makkachin’s dog dish.

Makkachin’s face drops down to gobble up his food, Victor smiling and rubbing his hand up and down Makkachin’s back. He tosses the can in the garbage and goes to the sink to wash his hands and rinse out a mug to use for coffee.

“Do you want some coffee, solnyshko?” Victor asks and Yuuri nods his head.

“Okay. How many waffles do you want?” Yuuri asks, greasing the waffle iron before he pours the batter.

“Twos fine,” Victor mumbles as he rinses out another mug.

The sun is streaming through the window, warming Victor’s feet from the natural light. In the meantime, waiting for the coffee to drip into the pot, Victor blindly stumbles to the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash some water onto his face to further wake him up. He breaks a new record as he grabs pajama pants out of his laundry basket to slip on, but is still too lazy to search for a shirt.

Victor strolls back into the kitchen, more awake now than before. There’s a dull ache in his back that he tries to straighten out, squaring his shoulders as he gives a heavy sigh. He trudges over to Yuuri, watching the waffles cook with spatula at the ready. Victor’s arms snake around Yuuri’s waist and he rests his cheek in Yuuri’s tangled mess of bedhair. Yuuri doesn’t jump, but relaxes in Victor’s hold.

“How much longer?” Victor asks into Yuuri’s locks, kissing once, twice, then a third time for good measure.

“About ten more minutes,” Yuuri says. Victor hums, kissing the shell of Yuuri’s ear.

“Did you sleep well?” Victor asks, breath warm over Yuuri’s skin as he kisses down the nape of his neck. Yuuri hums, twisting a little in Victor’s grasp as Victor kisses his exposed shoulder.

“Yeah, Makkachin kept me company. How about you?”

“Could have been better,” Victor murmurs. He kisses just above Yuuri’s clavicle and Yuuri gives a low whimper, tilting his head back to expose more of his neck. His skin is flushing pink, eyes brighter than the morning sun.

“I’m trying to cook,” Yuuri says. The complaint comes out a little bit too breathy and too soft. It makes Victor’s head spin and his hands slide lower to frame Yuuri’s hips.

“Mmm, don’t worry,” Victor says and kisses Yuuri’s throat, up to his jawline.

“If they burn-” Yuuri pauses to gasp when Victor sucks a wet spot right below his ear, “ _you’re_ going to eat them.”

Victor’s hand slips underneath the oversized shirt. His palm rests flat on Yuuri’s stomach, feeling the vibrations of his shudders as Victor kisses back down his shoulder. Yuuri’s foot raises off the floor an inch as Victor holds him by his hips, thumbing the loose waistline of the sweatpants. Victor jumps when Yuuri’s hips shift backwards suddenly, grinding against his front and exhaling out a sinful whimper.

Victor feels his gut sink low, heat filling his cheeks from the sudden movement and the change in mood.

He spins Yuuri around to face him, taking in Yuuri’s shy and flushed face. There’s arousal in his eyes, but also some nerves. It’s still Yuuri, it’s still _his_ Yuuri. Victor’s arms go back around Yuuri’s waist and pull him up against his body. He’s warm and firm, but goes limp in Victor’s grasp when Victor starts delivering sloppy wet kisses up his neck. Yuuri laughs, bracing his foot against the cupboard behind him as Victor presses Yuuri more into the counter.

“Are you always like this at nine in the morning?” Yuuri asks. His arms go around Victor’s neck, spatula still in his grasp.

“Only for you,” Victor murmurs, and presses their foreheads together. His nose bumps against Yuuri’s, skewing his glasses. Victor’s breath is warm and minty over Yuuri’s lips, parted just slightly. Yuuri’s tongue runs over his bottom lip, and Victor can feel Yuuri trying to pull him down to his level. He doesn’t resist the urge, and watches Yuuri’s eyes flutter close right before his do the same.

Victor kisses Yuuri nice and slow, with lazy rolls of his tongue and a shared taste of toothpaste and mouthwash. Yuuri vocalizes whimpers that echo in Victor’s mouth, teeth accidentally scraping over Victor’s lower lip as Victor deepens it and smothers Yuuri against the counter.

“I love you,” Victor manages to breathe out when things start growing hot and heavy on his lungs. It sounds just right, with the morning sun making Yuuri’s eyes sparkle and the smell of waffles on the verge of burning filling the air.

“I love you too,” Yuuri whispers against Victor’s mouth, and kisses Victor again till they’re both breathless.

 

* * *

 

_> you’re positive about this?_

_> >yeah. I’ll submit more artwork too. but for now I want my artwork rearranged in this way_

_> interesting_

_> is this sudden change because of your muse?_

_> >yep! We’re in love~_

_> >and I want to tell another story to show him just that_

* * *

 

“I thought I told you you’re _banned_ ,” Yuri hisses to Victor’s smiling face. He then throws a glare to Yuuri, who’s beside held close to Victor’s side and smiling just as big. “And why are _you_ here?” he questions, already agitated. 

“We’re in love, Yura!” Victor announces happily.

Behind the counter, Mila drops the box of lids on the ground.

“Hell yeah!” she exclaims and runs over to hi-five Victor and a rather confused Yuuri. Mila beams, turning to Yuri with hands on her hips. “So that means you owe me one meal at Rockets,” she fawns and Yuri clicks his tongue.

“You two had a bet on me?” Victor asks, then turns to Yuri with a pout, “and you betted _against_ me?”

“Well shit!” Yuri exclaims, “you were doing the same mopey crap you always did when things weren’t going your way last week and I _thought_ he finally came to his senses and realized how much of a moron you are.”

Yuri then turns to Yuuri and narrows his eyebrows. “But I guess you two are just _both_ morons.”

“Morons _in love_ ,” Yuuri corrects. Victor gasps.

“ _Solnyshko~_ ” Victor purrs and nuzzles his face behind Yuuri’s ear and down the crook of his neck. Yuuri laughs and cradles Victor’s face in his hands, kissing him once on the chin and a _lot_ of pecks to his lips. Victor smiles against Yuuri’s mouth, rocking them both from side to side and breaks away with a laugh.

“Did you two _seriously_ come up here just to be obnoxious?” Yuri asks and Victor smiles, cuddling Yuuri against his chest.

“No~ we just came up here to get a smoothie from my sweet, adorable, loving-”

“You two have literally five seconds to get out of here before I turn a hose on you,” Yuri threatens and Mila shrugs.

“We don’t have a hose, Yura,” Mila reminds and Victor hums.

“Well, it’s too cold for a smoothie anyways-”

“Then why did you come up here?! Either order something or get out!” Yuri barks, but Victor doesn’t pay any attention as he squeezes Yuuri’s waist.

“Shall we get some hot soup at the café, my beautiful muse?” Victor asks and turns to Yuri. “Are you going on lunch soon? Do you want to come with? You should get to know your future brother-in-law~” Victor sing-songs. He feels Yuuri turn in his grasp, smile on his lips as he gives a playful hit to Victor’s chest.

“Don't tease like that,” he chides and Victor kisses Yuuri’s forehead.

“I’m not teasing~” Victor mewls into Yuuri’s skin, dipping his face down to kiss Yuuri again. Yuri groans even louder, turning to Mila with a scowl.

“You did this. You and Phichit _did this_. I hope you’re _happy_ ,” Yuri says, absolutely _sickened_.

Yuri yells at them to leave and take their lovey-dovey crap elsewhere. Yuri also gives them a muffin to share as an ‘incentive’ to leave quicker, and only gives a grumble when Victor gives him a goodbye kiss to his forehead.

“Tell Mom I said hi!” Victor chirps and Yuuri gives a little wave goodbye.

“Nice seeing you two again,” he says with the softest and warmest smile. Yuri crosses his arms and turns up his nose.

“Just hurry up and get out of here. It’s fucking cold outside, why are you two even _out?_ ” Yuri spits and Mila grins.

“See you!” Mila says with a happy wave of her own. Victor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, opening the door for Yuuri to exit first into the late-January cold. Next week will be the first week of February and the last week before the exhibition is opened.

Victor has sent some extra drawings to Christophe to be submitted to go along with his new arrangement of his theme. Hopefully, they’ll be framed in time and placed before the opening night.

“Is your brother alright with us dating?” Yuuri asks, shaking Victor out of his thoughts. He looks down, Yuuri pulling a piece of the muffin off to eat. His eyes flutter close and he gives a delightful moan at the taste. It’s by far the most positive reaction to a muffin from Yuri’s shop Victor’s seen; they normally taste like someone covered a cinderblock in artificial flavoring and tried to pass it off as a muffin.

“Of course he is. If anything, he’s just concerned about me screwing up,” Victor says. He rubs Yuuri’s shoulder and smiles. “He likes you. What is there _not_ to like?” Victor asks and Yuuri smiles. Victor pulls a part of the muffin off to eat for himself. It’s unusually soft and it’s still warm, moist with apple streusel and bits of pumpkin. He smiles at Yuri’s little treat to them.

It’s Yuri’s way of saying, ‘don’t fuck this up’.

 

* * *

 

“ _Aaaah, I’m so nervous! What if he doesn’t like me? I always thought your babushka was a crone trying to break me and your Papa up when I was younger. What if he doesn’t like me as punishment for those years I was such a brat?_ ”

“Mama, he hasn’t even _met_ you,” Victor says over the phone, tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he tries to fix his tie.

“ _But won’t he be there tonight? And you invited his parents too? Oh Vitya~ I’m so nervous. Are they nice people? Do they want grandchildren too? I hope they want a granddaughter, I’ve already bought so many dresses-_ “

“Mama, it’s alright,” Victor reassures with a little chuckle. Honestly, it’s the opening night for the exhibition. If anything, _he_ should be the one nervous. But exhibitions always go off without a hitch, and all Victor has to do for the night is stand around, eat food and listen to a bunch of snobs try and figure out the inner meaning of his art as he nods politely.

“ _Are we going out for dinner tonight? To celebrate? We can come home and I can cook dinner for everyone! Ooohhh, but would they like Russian cuisine? Ahh, Vitya what is your boyfriend’s favorite food? Oh, but what if I can’t learn how to make it before tonight?! Vityaa~_ ”

“Mama, it’s _okay_. He’s going to love you, I promise,” Victor says and grabs his cufflinks. He hears his mother take in deep breaths and then an affirming hum.

“ _Yes! Okay!_ ”

“I’ll see you and Yura there. If Mila tags along, let me know ahead of time so I can add her to the list. Tell Yura its _cocktail wear_ , no animal prints.”

“ _Okay, okay~_ ” she sing-songs. Victor decides to just call Christophe and let him know of the plus one regardless. “ _I love you, Vitya~_ ”

“Love you too,” Victor says with a smile and hangs up, looking at the time. Yuuri is still at his place getting ready from Phichit’s Instagram photos. He’s doing very well at hiding Yuuri however, so Victor guesses that it must be a surprise. Victor will be lying if he says he’s not intrigued. Course, it doesn’t matter what Yuuri is wearing; he’s stunning no matter what. 

Victor looks in the mirror and straightens his hair. In a few hours, everyone will see the fruits of his and Yuuri’s work together. His mother is going to meet Yuuri for the first time and Victor. . .

Victor is going to meet Yuuri’s parents.

Victor’s _never_ met his past lover’s parents. He usually never gets that far down the road where he’d consider it.

Victor quickly shakes the nerves that try to creep up his spine. No, no he’s okay. It’s nothing to worry about. They seem like lovely people from Yuuri’s words and Instagram photos, what is there to be worried about? He gives his cheeks a minor slap to psyche himself up. Everyone’s going to love the exhibition, everyone’s going to see how hard Yuuri worked to make this exhibition perfect. Everyone’s going to see Victor’s art and see the beautiful muse that helped inspire it.

They’re going to love it.

They’re going to love Yuuri.

Yuuri’s going to look so beautiful tonight.

Victor smiles. “Yuuri~” he purrs the skater’s name and sighs. He probably looks like an idiot with this stupidly fond smile of his, but just thinking about how Yuuri loves him just makes Victor feel stupid and giddy.

Victor grabs his coat and a pair of gloves, getting to his knees to get a good luck kiss from Makkachin.

“I’ll be home soon, okay?” Victor says, rubbing Makkachin’s face and playing with his ears. “Don’t do anything naughty, got it? No sniffing around for biscuits, and toys on the shelf are _off limits_ ,” Victor chides. Makkachin gives a cheerful bark in understanding, and Victor pulls Makkachin for one more hug.

Victor gets back up to his feet, grabs his keys and waves goodbye. He exits the apartment and locks the door behind him, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling out the last bit of jitters remaining.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you let that tool take your spot,” Yuri spits, astonished and absolutely disgusted. He’s glaring in the direction of where Victor’s artwork was originally planned to be, but Victor hasn’t wandered over there yet to see who is the artist that took his spot. 

“I can’t believe you’re wearing that jacket when I _told_ Mama it’s cocktail wear,” Victor says with a smile. Yuri clicks his tongue, shoving his hands into his jean jacket. Studs line the shoulder and outline the chest pockets. Victor notes that Yuri has added a couple more patches and buttons to it from when he last saw the garment. Most of the offensive patches can only be read if they get close to Yuri, but the jacket is _definitely_ causing heads to turn in both good ways and bad.

“I’m not wearing some _monkey suit_. This is an art gallery, I should be able to express myself as much as everyone else here,” Yuri argues. He _always_ says that, and Victor can never find it in himself to continue because he _knows_ that Yuri has a counterargument just _waiting_. Mila smirks behind her hand, dressed in a fitting blue off the shoulder dress.

“Everything else is fine, right? Look, I even braided his hair,” Mila says, like it’s supposed to make it a _little_ better. She gestures to the braid in Yuri’s hair that _does_ look nice. It will look nicer if he wore a suit like he’s _supposed to_ , but it looks nice. Victor pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“You’re _very lucky_ Christophe knows you. If this was any other exhibition, you would have been sent home at the door,” Victor scolds and Yuri turns up his nose. He sees his mother approach from behind Mila, disappointed look on her face and glass in her hand.

“Vitya, the bar service is _terrible_. Look at how small this thing is. And they won’t make drink orders either,” his mother complains. She downs it in one gulp, eats the olive, then hands her glass to someone she _thinks_ is a staff member. Luckily, they are.

“When are they going to start serving some actual _food?_ ” Yuri asks aloud and Victor shushes them both. His mother tugs on his sleeve, eyes darting around the room.

“Where’s your boyfriend? Is he already here? Is he coming? How’s my hair? This dress doesn’t look too bad, does it? Ooohh, it was such a squeeze to get on. What if he thinks I look too old? _Vitya~_ ”

“Mama, you’re starting to make _me_ nervous. _Please stop_ ,” Victor says, smile straining on his lips as he holds her shoulders. “Did you look at the other artwork here? Come on, let’s walk around and keep ourselves busy, okay?”

Victor leads his mother through the crowd, walking and viewing each artist’s area of the exhibition and their work submitted. Yuri and Mila follow a few steps behind them, taking interest in some pieces, ignoring most, and snatching hors d’oeuvres off any table they happen to pass by.

There’s a space that has small polaroid pictures of a wedding day attached to the wall and, if standing in the correct spot, form a larger mural of a married couple. There’s a large sculpture of an hour glass with sand continuously pouring onto the head of a figure trapped inside, hands stretched out towards the surface.

Victor is amazed at such new talent appearing in the art world with such thought provoking pieces; never would he have guessed ‘one day of despair’ being interpreted by using realistic sculptures of people leaning up against the wall with their faces hidden away by their arms or their hands. It’s sad – and in Yuri’s unashamed words ‘fucking creepy’ – but it’s interesting. Victor’s going to have to step up his game for his next exhibition, maybe one where he’s more free to submit anything he’d like.

Victor’s mother clings to his arm, humming.

“How much farther is your spot, Vitya?” she asks.

“Not far. I was originally up closer, but I had to downsize,” Victor explains.

“They gave the space to some guy that just has _Instagram_ posts blown up on canvases. That’s such a jip!” Yuri barks.

“Not so loud, Yura,” Mila shushes. She grabs a mini quiche and hands it to the teenager as if it will somehow quell his annoyance. He takes it, shoves it into his mouth in one bite, and aggressively swallows it down his throat.

“If _that’s_ considered art, _I_ could have submitted something too. I overheard he’s charging a grip for them too! Why the fuck would I want to pay over ten grand for an _Instagram_ post? He just added a filter and slapped it on a canvas! That’s not _art!_ ” Yuri complains and gives a disgusted roll of his eyes, " _JJ Style_ , more like 'piece of shit'." 

Victor smiles, looking over his shoulder at his younger brother seething.

“Art is subjective, Yura,” Victor says, pausing when his mother stops to look and read a moving marquee flashing lights and displaying messages of women empowerment. Yuri scoffs.

“I’m just saying, at least you put some _effort_ into your crappy art,” Yuri grumbles. Victor chuckles, shaking his head fondly. He watches Mila and his mother take a quick selfie next to the marquee, before taking his mother by her arm and continuing through their stroll of the exhibition.

Yuri criticizes some more pieces that don’t make sense to him, then takes a selfie with Mila and Victor in front of a large pizza sculpture mounted on the wall for ‘one day of food’. Yuri still doesn’t understand it, but Victor’s happy that his brother is getting so passionate and vocal about art since he normally responds with indifference. 

Victor starts to wonder if Yuuri managed to get here okay, and if he should migrate back to the entrance to wait for his muse. But at the same time, he needs to be there beside his own artwork to answer any questions and meet with gallery directors interested in his work. He can’t have Christophe’s assistant posted there the entire night as a stand-in.

As they pass by the wall of contributors and sponsors for the exhibition along with all participating artist’s portraits side by side, someone’s hand latches onto his shoulder. Victor stops and turns with alarm, eyes widening when he sees that it’s Yuuri.

He looks. . . _breathtaking_.

Yuuri’s hair is slicked back and isn’t wearing his glasses. He’s wearing a deep navy blue suit with a violet pocket square tucked and folded into a triangle, gold cufflinks and no tie to go with the wine-colored dress shirt he’s wearing underneath. A few buttons are popped open to expose his collarbone, Victor’s eyes lingering on the exposed bit of skin before he looks Yuuri over from head to toe a couple more times.

Yuuri smiles, then squints.

“Um, hi?” he says, cheeks flushed and no other greeting coming to mind. Victor releases his mother’s arm for a moment, turning to take Yuuri’s hands into his own.

“You came!” Victor exclaims and Yuuri tilts his head to the side, confused.

“Of course I came. You put me and my parents on the guest list, Victor,” Yuuri says with a little laugh. He looks over his shoulder and at the crowd all around them. “Although, I think Phichit might have disappeared with them. Something about an Instagram gallery,” Yuuri murmurs and bites his lower lip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I arrived. Some members from my skating club bought tickets to see too and we had to work out transportation and I just got frazzled. . .lots of people wanted to see your work,” Yuuri says. Victor can feel Yuuri’s hands tremble in his own from the pressure and nervousness, so he gives Yuuri’s hands a squeeze.

“ _Our_ work. You had just as much a hand in creating it as me,” Victor says and smiles. “And the more the merrier!” he chirps, pressing his forehead to Yuuri’s and kisses the tip of his nose then the side of his temple. Victor pulls back and looks down at Yuuri’s suit again. “You look lovely. Mind telling me who you’re wearing, my beautiful muse?” Victor asks and Yuuri looks down.

“I’m not sure. Phichit dressed me for the night because apparently, my standard black suit and blue tie wouldn’t make a _splash_ ,” Yuuri says with a sigh and frowns. “I hope it’s not an expensive brand. I’m sweating and I don’t want it ruined,” Yuuri says worried. Victor shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he reassures and gives Yuuri’s hands one more squeeze. “Ah! By the way, I want you to meet-” Victor turns to where he left his mother and pauses. His mother is standing with her hands covering her mouth, eyes watering as she _stares_ at Yuuri. Yuri and Mila have separated themselves from the group, but are watching from afar with expressions that clearly spell out ‘this is going to get embarrassing and we don’t want to be associated’.

“ _Vitya~_ ” his mother croaks and sniffles. “He’s so _beautiful_ ,” she sobs and throws her arms open to pull Yuuri into her grasp and smother his face against her chest. Yuuri’s arms flail outwards, pulling back to get some air as the woman hugs and squeezes it all out again. People are indeed looking in their direction as his mother fawns loudly at how _long_ she’s waited to meet Yuuri and how cute he is and how soft his skin is. Yuuri is speechless, eyes looking to Victor for clarification and for some way to escape out of the woman’s hold.

“Mama, Mama, let him breathe,” Victor says with a little laugh. She gives a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek and then his forehead, leaving two crimson red lipstick marks against Yuuri’s flushed skin, before she finally lets her grip on him fall. Yuuri awkwardly stumbles back, blinking owlishly as she wipes at her eyes to keep her mascara from running.

“Yuuri, this is my mother,” Victor introduces and squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder. “Mama, this is Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor says. His mother nods her head, absolutely elated.

“Vitya, he’s so _lovely_ ,” she mewls and gives Yuuri another kiss on the cheek just because. “He’s skinny but he has plumpness right here!” she says with a happy little laugh and pinches at Yuuri’s behind. Yuuri jumps with a startled noise and his mother giggles. “He’s so cute, Vitya! Look at his face~” she fawns and tries to pull Yuuri in for another kiss on the cheek.

Victor steps in and holds his mother’s hands, smiling as Yuuri gets behind and uses Victor as a human shield. “Mama, maybe we should do this _after_ the exhibition. Over dinner, okay?” Victor suggests. His mother blinks for a few seconds, confused, then her eyes grow wide with understanding and she nods her head with a wink of her eye. Victor has _no idea_ what’s running through her head now, but winks along with her anyways.

“Okay~” she says and holds her face. “Then, I’ll just let you have some alone time with your adorable boyfriend. We’ll head on to your part of the exhibit, okay?”

“We’ll be right behind you-”

“No, no~ take your time~” she purrs and leans around Victor to give Yuuri’s hand a squeeze. “I shall see you later, my darling myshka~” she says with a little smile and Victor bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something. His mother turns and seeks out Yuri and Mila in the crowd, while Yuuri reemerges from behind Victor and takes a small handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the kiss marks off his cheek.

“Uh. . .your mother is. . .affectionate,” Yuuri says, not able to find the words. Victor sighs, taking the handkerchief from Yuuri and helps wipe his face.

“She’s been wanting to meet you for a while now,” Victor admits and Yuuri hums.

“I thought I was only your muse until last month.”

“. . .Well, she always thought you were my boyfriend and I was just hiding you from her,” Victor says. Yuuri laughs, but then pauses, then furrows his eyebrows.

“Wait, so that time when your brother mentioned her buying stuff for our _kid_. . .he was _serious?_ ” Yuuri asks and Victor winces.

“Ah~ well. . .I’ll talk to her about it later. Now’s not the time,” Victor says with a wave of his hand and holds out his arm for Yuuri to take. Yuuri does, resting his head against Victor’s shoulder and slowly begins to walk towards Victor’s spot in the exhibition.

“Your mother looks so _young_. . .you look a lot like her too,” Yuuri comments with a smile. “She even has the same heart-shaped smile like you.”

“Mmm, she does,” Victor agrees, absently rubbing his thumb into Yuuri’s wrist.

“. . .Hypothetically speaking. . . _if_ we had children from a surrogate and you were the father. . .do you think they’d have that smile?”

Victor blinks, looking down at Yuuri.

“Huh?”

“A-Ahh, nothing! Nothing at all!” Yuuri stammers, then quickly points at a metal sculpture to distract Victor’s attention. “ _Wooww_ , look at that thing! It’s. . . _artsy_ ,” Yuuri says, with his voice dying off at the end of the sentence. Victor’s lips are pulled into a tight smile and he beams.

“Would you say it’s _neat?_ ” Victor asks and Yuuri drops his face into his hands to groan.

“Forget I ever said that.”

“Nope. Now _I_ have something to tease _you_ with, my beautiful muse,” Victor laughs triumphantly.

“But I have _more_ ,” Yuuri says with a glint in his eyes. That. . .is true.

They linger around and look at some of the art pieces and sculptures, Victor questioning what Yuuri’s interpretation of the artist’s work is. Yuuri struggles to come up with flowery descriptions on some of them, and responds to other pieces with outright confusion.

(“It’s. . .it’s just a bowl of cereal. . .being filmed by a video camera.”

“It’s supposed to be ‘a day of solidarity’.”

“. . .But it’s cereal being filmed by a video camera. Is. . .is it supposed to _do_ something?”)

They chat together, mingle around looking at other pieces, take some food that’s offered by staff, and promise each other to grab something else to eat later because it’s not enough. They take their time, lingering in their footsteps like they’re walking in the snow from Ice Castle to the stoplight where they’ll separate.

They get on a couple of peoples’ nerves for not walking fast enough through the crowd and get a couple of irritated looks thrown their way as they go around the couple, but Victor doesn’t give a shit. He’s waited _so long_ for this; he’s going to enjoy this moment for as long as he can.

Victor and Yuuri reach a small crowd towards the block where Victor’s work is displayed. Victor gives Yuuri’s arm a little squeeze and tilts his chin towards the crowd.

“That’s it over there,” Victor points out and he feels Yuuri tense. He looks down, seeing Yuuri biting the nail of his index finger. 

“Will they like it? Do they like it?” Yuuri asks and Victor chuckles.

“I don’t know, solnyshko. We should go over and find out,” Victor says with a smile. He begins to lead Yuuri towards the crowd and then through it to the center of the area. Victor spies Mila and Yuri and his mother to the far-right admiring the extreme close-up of Yuuri’s face, then sees a familiar yellow and red head sobbing in front of the painting of Yuuri performing a charlotte spiral.

“Ah, Minami?” Yuuri calls out and the younger teen jumps in his spot, turning to Yuuri and Victor with eyes glossy and mouth hanging in awe.

“Yuuri! You look so amazing!” Minami screeches and Yuuri places a finger to his lips to shush him. Minami turns to Victor, hands balling into tight fists. “It’s amazing! He looks so _beautiful!_ You managed to capture him perfectly!” Minami exclaims and points at the painting. “How much for that one?!”

Victor blinks, then smiles. “I don’t have the price list on me. That’s in the care of the dealer handling my affairs,” Victor says and looks in close at the marker. He taps a red dot that’s in the bottom right corner. “Ah, but it looks like someone already purchased it.”

“ _Already?!_ ” Yuuri and Minami exclaims, shocked. Yuuri hands go over his mouth as he looks over the painting, simply amazed, while Minami puffs his cheeks.

“W-Where’s the dealer?! I want to purchase a painting too!” Minami shouts and Victor laughs.

“If you want, I can commission you a piece tailored to your budget,” Victor suggests. He might not know the exact prices of his works since he only gave Christophe starting numbers and Christophe adjusted the painting’s worth after going through the entire collection, but he _knows_ a teenager can’t afford _anything_ in this gallery. Not even the bowl of cereal being filmed by a video camera.

Minami gapes. “R-Really?!” he asks and Victor nods his head. He reaches into his wallet, taking out a small business card from the few he remembers to carry at hand, and gives it to Minami. The teen takes it into his grasp as if it is the holiest of objects, his ticket to his greatest desire.

“Thank you!” Minami cries and scurries off to another section of the gallery to admire more of Yuuri’s image immortalized in art. Victor turns to Yuuri, who’s beet red and still trying to process that some unknown person thought the artwork is beautiful enough to want to pay _money_ for.

“Something wrong, solnyshko?” Victor asks and Yuuri shakes his head.

“N-No. . .I’m fine,” Yuuri breathes and smiles to Victor. “I’m glad that someone likes your art. Though, it’s expected since you’re so talented.”

“Everyone in here is considered talented, but not everyone would buy their art,” Victor says and cradles Yuuri’s face. “The person fell in love with _you_ and _your_ beauty, not my painting. It stirred something within them, an emotion strong enough that they would want to share it with even more people,” Victor says and kisses Yuuri’s nose. Yuuri smiles, pulling Victor’s hands down to twine their fingers together.

“Ah ha!”

Yuuri jumps and spins around behind him with sudden alertness. Victor looks to see Phichit smiling with his phone out and liveblogging the event. Beside him is an older couple Victor instantly recognizes as Yuuri’s parents. Yuuri’s father is looking down at their intertwined hands and he points.

“So you _finally_ asked him about creating a painting for us!” Yuuri’s father exclaims, pushing himself in between them to go and shake Victor’s hand. “You have our blessing to marry him. I’d like a portrait of a waterfall-”

“ _Dad!_ ” Yuuri exclaims, pulling his father away while the _hugest_ grin spreads over Victor’s face. Yuuri’s mother playfully hits her husband’s shoulder, before she opens her arms out to pull Victor into a soft warm hug.

“We give you our blessing even if you _don’t_ do a painting for us,” she tells Victor with a smile. “Just take good care of our son, understand?” she asks. Victor hugs her back, nodding his head.

“Of course. I promise.”

“ _Mom_ ,” now Yuuri pulls his mother away, embarrassed flush on his cheeks. “We’re not even _living_ together yet-”

“But Phichit’s told us you’ve been spending the night at your boyfriend’s lately. You’re telling me you’re _not_ shacking up?” Yuuri’s father bluntly asks with a laugh and now Yuuri turns his attention to Phichit.

“ _Phichit_ ,” Yuuri groans out and places his face into his hands. Victor smiles, seeing out of the corner of his eye his mother approaching and dragging Yuri along with her by his wrist.

“Hello~” his mother coos, bypassing the hand Yuuri’s father holds out to shake with to wrap arms around Yuuri’s parents to envelope them in a big hug. She pulls back, smiling big. “Are you myshka’s parents?”

“If ‘myshka’ is Yuuri, then yes!” Yuuri’s mother chirps. Victor’s mother then proceeds to introduce herself, then Yuri, then all parents present laugh at the funny coincidence of Yuri and _Yuuri_. Meanwhile, the two Yuris already look very much done for the night.

Victor beckons Yuuri over with a little wave of his hand, and Yuuri slips away while Phichit reunites with Mila to exchange gossip over Victor and Yuuri’s relationship upgrade.

Yuuri has a hand placed to his forehead as Victor walks them over to a corner of the area, near the painting of Yuuri in the bath with Makkachin. Yuuri sighs and looks up at Victor with exhausted eyes.

“They can be a handful at times,” Yuuri admits and Victor smiles.

“They’re wonderful,” he says.

“. . .Yeah. . .they are. . .I wish my sister could have tagged along, but she had to stay behind and run the inn,” Yuuri explains and looks up at the artwork, folding his hands behind his back. “Maybe another time.”

Victor hums in agreement, looking over his and Yuuri’s work. He hears his mother and Yuuri’s parents happily chatting with each other despite the noise of other guests shuffling around moving from display to display. People wander in and out of Victor’s area, taking in the sight of Yuuri in the paintings and commenting on the beauty of it, before they continue through the exhibition.

Their comments float into Victor’s ears with ease, and every few seconds he looks to Yuuri for his reaction. The skater tries to keep a modest reaction for the most part, but he hears the compliments and proclamations of such ‘beauty’ and ‘love’ within Yuuri’s eyes, and praise how passionate he looks as he glides and moves on the ice. Red fills Yuuri’s cheeks and bridges over his nose, rising to tint the tips of his ears. Yuuri breathes in slow and deep, but he keeps his head held high, pride swirling in his irises.

Yuuri leans in close to Victor. “They like it,” he whispers, like he’s worried about them finding out Yuuri is eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Of course they do. What’s not to like?” Victor whispers back with a smile.

“Hmm, there you are, Victor,” Victor hears from behind and turns, Christophe approaching with his assistant tailing at his heels. Christophe’s eyes move over to Yuuri in curiosity, lips curling into a flirtatious smirk.

“So _this_ is your muse?” Christophe asks, holding his hand out for Yuuri to take. When he does, he squeezes Yuuri’s hand and steps in close, holding Yuuri’s chin with his other hand and tilting the skater’s face up towards him. “He’s even more beautiful in person,” Christophe _purrs_ , glancing over his shoulder. “As beautiful as your ravishing mother, Victor,” Christophe compliments.

“You just crossed the line _twice_ in less than five seconds,” Victor says through his clenched smile. Christophe chuckles, releasing Yuuri’s face and slipping his hands into the pockets of his blazer.

“We have lots of galleries interested in purchasing your art. Despite it not being your normal style, people are quite taken with your story and with your subject,” Christophe informs and smiles. “Your arrangement and notes swayed the romantics for sure. . .perhaps I was wrong about this exhibition not being able to surprise anyone.”

Christophe gives Yuuri a wink, to which he tries to hide his shudder, and turns back to Victor. “Will you come in tomorrow for the interviews? We’re starting with your block and working our way back towards the front,” Christophe asks and Victor nods his head.

“I’ll pencil it in,” Victor says with a wave of his hand. Christophe nods in agreement and says his goodbyes, before he and his assistant move on to the next artist’s display down the hall. Yuuri looks over to Victor, head tilting to the side.

“What did he mean by ‘your arrangement and notes’?” Yuuri asks and Victor taps his chin.

“. . .How about you guess? Try and see if you can figure out the day I chose to depict,” Victor says with a little grin. Yuuri blinks.

“I thought it was supposed to be a day of me."

“It is! But this new arrangement and layout shows another story as well!” Victor says with a wag of his finger and taps Yuuri’s forehead. “Think hard, my beautiful muse. Observe everything,” Victor instructs, leading Yuuri into the center so he can have a good view of all the artwork, and steps back.

Yuuri pouts, then brings his knuckle up to bite on it as he slowly turns to look at all the paintings. Yuuri looks at each one, then moves up closer to the art to view them better without his glasses. He walks around the space, taking each piece in and trying to make something click in understanding. He circles around once, twice, then approaches Victor with his arms crossed.

“You didn’t finish the day. There’s more of me skating than me going through my normal routine. . .is it a day of figure skating?” Yuuri asks and Victor shakes his head.

“Want a hint?” Victor asks and Yuuri puffs his cheeks.

“No,” Yuuri says quickly and circles around the area once again to _really_ observe the artwork. Victor places his finger to his lips, smiling as Yuuri searches for the hidden meaning to the paintings and the art. He does a few double takes at the newest drawings that Victor submitted, spends some time looking at the sequence of figure skating paintings, then returns to Victor.

“Figured it out yet?”

“I don’t remember posing for that one,” Yuuri brings up, pointing at the painting of a faceless Yuuri performing a spread eagle on the inside edge. Victor blinks.

“Ah. . .that’s one of my older paintings. That one in particular is from the first time that I saw you,” Victor explains, rubbing the back of his neck. Yuuri blinks, then looks back at the painting.

“It’s very red,” Yuuri brings up, admiring the bright color on the canvas. Victor smiles. 

“Stay on that train of thought, solnyshko,” Victor sing-songs. Yuuri gives his bottom lip a lick and Victor shivers as Yuuri’s eyes gain a determined gleam.

“Okay!” he says and goes back to making his observations. Victor fawns; he _loves_ to see that fiery determination in Yuuri’s eyes.

“Vitya~” his mother calls and he turns, seeing the woman trying to flag him down. He glances over at Yuuri, who is now looking at the close-up of his face, before he walks over to his mother. She latches around his left bicep, smiling that heart-shaped smile that Victor inherited.

“We’re all going to have something called ‘hot pot’! You do a ‘shabu shabu’ thing and there’s lots of meat and it sounds like fun~” his mother says and looks over at Yuuri studying the artwork. “Is myshka ready to leave?” she asks and Victor chuckles.

“He’s trying to figure out the theme of my selection,” Victor says and kisses her forehead. “We’ll tag along in a couple of minutes.”

She nods her head. “Ahh, okay. By the way, Vitya~” she whispers, coming in close. She raises her hand to hide her lips, eyes holding a conspiring edge. “If you’re going to propose, we can let the waiters know so they can make a special surprise.”

“Mama, I’m not proposing. Not yet.”

She pouts. “But _when?_ Vitya, I want to see my granddaughter~ So does Hiroko.”

“Mama, we’re not even living together yet,” Victor says and holds her by her shoulders. “In time, okay? _Time_.”

His mother hums, puffs her cheeks and sighs. Victor gives her another kiss on the forehead, turns her around and gives her a little push towards the crowd. “We’ll catch up!” he says with a smile and waves. Victor then turns on the heel of his shoe and strolls back over to Yuuri, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Any guesses?” Victor asks, kissing Yuuri’s ear. The skater is now back to looking at the faceless painting of himself, humming in deep concentration.

“You said this was the first painting you ever did of me. . .and I know you arranged them a certain way. . .so there’s some order I need to look at these paintings from. . .is it a day of your progress? But these took longer than a day to make, so that can’t be it. . .” Yuuri closes his eyes.

“What do these all have in common outside of you as the subject? Specifically colors,” Victor murmurs. Yuuri gives a glance around, biting his lower lip.

It takes a few minutes, but something clicks and he jumps in Victor’s hold. “Oh! The color red! There’s red in all these pictures of me!” Yuuri says and looks back to the painting.

“Mm. And what does red symbolize?” Victor asks and sighs. He wants to kiss the nape of Yuuri’s neck, but that would require stretching back the collar of his shirt and suit. He settles for kissing Yuuri’s hair.

“Love. . .passion. . .” Yuuri stifles a gasp when Victor kisses his jawline and pushes the artist’s head away. “Not here,” he whispers and Victor smiles, nuzzling his cheek into Yuuri’s.

“That’s right. So look at this as also a day of love, of my passion for _you_ ,” Victor explains and straightens his posture. “Red was the first color that came to my mind when I saw you skating, when you moved with such passion and sexuality. Over time, the red blossoms into a more natural shade, still as intense but not jarringly obvious.”

Victor moves them both along as he explains, Yuuri noting the bright redness of the earlier paintings has softened and is more pleasing to the eye. He doesn’t bring up that the red only changed shade when Victor drew Yuuri’s face for the first time, but the light blush on his face lets Victor know he understands.

“Then, the red goes into highlights. Into your eyes, outlining your lips and bringing color to your face. It’s the subtlest, because that was when I wanted my love for you to take a backseat and let the focus just be _you_. I wanted to portray you as you are, without my emotions smothering you and ruining the image.”

Yuuri says nothing, but Victor sees warmth filling his cheeks and his eyes shimmering.

“And these are the newest editions,” Victor says, resting his hand on the frame of one drawing. They’re all just portraits of Yuuri smiling, drawn from different angles and red growing brighter with each portrait, until Yuuri’s portrait is against a red background that matches the intense shade of the spread eagle painting besides it.

“. . .It loops. . .the red,” Yuuri says.

“I like to think it’s never-ending,” Victor says with a heart-shaped smile, “like my love for you.”

Yuuri drops his face into his hands, shoulders trembling. Victor blinks, then moves away from the wall. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” he asks and Yuuri shakes his head, pulling his hands away to reveal a blushing face and smile big on his lips.

“You’re just so cheesy,” Yuuri chokes out with a laugh and kisses Victor before the artist can bring up any objections to his comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tHERE'S STILL ONE MORE CHAPTER
> 
> i had to split this chapter up
> 
> chapter seven is #true ending 
> 
> OTL


	7. in every way

In March, Yuuri moves in with Victor a few days after Yuri’s sixteenth birthday. Phichit is fine with it; apparently, he’s going to move in with another friend who could use some help paying with the rent.

“What did you do to Seung-Gil that made _him_ be the one to offer a place to stay?” Yuuri asks Phichit as he helps bring in Yuuri’s things. Victor has no idea who they’re talking about, so he busies himself with figuring out just how are they going to cram all this stuff into this little apartment.

“I don’t know, maybe he likes me~” Phichit says with a laugh and stacks up a box containing some silverware on the kitchen counter. Maybe some of this is Phichit’s stuff he’s just pushing onto Yuuri and Victor to lighten his move. Victor honestly doesn’t know, Yuuri’s friend – well, now _his_ friend too – is very crafty like that.

“Once the lease is up at the apartment and I’m moved in with Seung-Gil, we’re _definitely_ going to go out. The director that made the ‘ _The King and the Skater_ ’ is supposed to be releasing a new movie in the fall that’s supposed to be a prequel. And since I know how much you and Seung-Gil _love_ that movie, we can go see it opening night!” Phichit says in excitement.

Victor opens a box to check inside. There’s lots of knit hats, some of them he remembers Yuuri wearing in December. He gives a sigh; Yuuri looked so beautiful wearing this one-

“Victor!” Phichit calls out and he looks over at him, “Have you seen ‘ _The King and the Skater’_?”

Victor looks to Yuuri, whose eyes are telling him to ‘just say yes’. Victor’s curiosity is piqued.

“No, I haven’t.”

Phichit _gapes_. Yuuri brings a hand to his forehead and sighs.

They spend the next two hours watching both _The King and the Skater_ and its sequel, another hour rewatching the first movie with Phichit giving side-by-side commentary, a thirty-minute Q&A session, **_then_** give the soundtrack a couple of listens.

It takes an extra two hours to move Yuuri’s things from his old apartment to Victor’s. To _their_ apartment.

It takes two extra weeks for Yuuri to unpack it all.

 

* * *

 

In June, Victor meets Yuuri’s sister and spends the weekend at the family inn. She’s nice; a little rough around the edges, but cool and collected. Yuri will like her, Victor’s sure of it. 

Toshiya – he insists that Victor call him ‘Dad’ and Hiroko ‘Mom’ and Victor feels like he’s _home_ with Yuuri’s parents – loves the serene painting of a waterfall cascading into a calm river. If a guest gives only a two second glance at it, Toshiya is quick to bombard them with comments on how ‘his good-looking son-in-law’ painted it and ‘Victor’s lucky that his son wants to marry him’. His enthusiasm embarrasses Yuuri, but Victor doesn’t mind. He’s speaking the truth.

Hiroko cooks them all a big dinner and Yuuri drags Victor away to bed when he starts getting a little bit too drunk on the inn’s various spirits and liquors. They set him and Makkachin up in a vacant dining room to sleep and Victor kisses Yuuri goodnight before he retires to his own bedroom. Yuuri’s bed is too small to try and cram Victor _and_ Makkachin, so Victor begrudgingly accepts the facts. The futon is comfy at least, not like their bed at home, but it will do.

In the middle of the night, someone’s gently shakes him awake.

“Hmm?” he grunts.

“Get in bed with me.” It’s Yuuri.

“Are we having a slumber party?” Yuuri is pulling Victor up to his feet and out into the hall, Makkachin following close behind.

“Shh, don’t wake everyone else up.”

Victor kisses Yuuri’s head, just because.

They climb into Yuuri’s bed, and it’s just as tight and uncomfortable of a fit as he thought it would be. Victor knows that in the morning – or when the sun comes up if it’s already early morning, whatever – his back is going to ache and he’s going to regret it.

Yuuri curls up with Makkachin while Victor curls up against Yuuri, limbs bent at awkward angles and elbows digging in uncomfortable spots. He feels Yuuri relax against him and breathe out a heavy sigh, as if this is _exactly_ what he needs to go to sleep. It doesn’t take long for it to start getting hot underneath the blankets just like it does at home. Makkachin starts pulling on the bedsheets in his sleep too.

Strangely, Victor doesn’t want it any other way.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri cries during the first time they have sex. It freaks Victor the _fuck_ out. 

“Baby? Yuuri? What is it? What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” Victor quickly rattles off and Yuuri shakes his head, holding Victor’s shoulder to keep him from moving and wiping his eyes with his other hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Yuuri repeats, trying to calm Victor down. His eyes are still sparkling and the luminescent blush is still over his face. “I’m just. . .it feels really good. . .I’m just really happy,” Yuuri whimpers and Victor’s shoulders sag.

“Oh. . .okay,” he says and breathes out a sigh of relief. Victor’s first time was shitty and painful; he doesn’t want the same experience for his beloved. Victor kisses Yuuri and presses their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Victor says and Yuuri tangles his hand in Victor’s hair.

“I love you too,” Yuuri croaks and cradles Victor’s face, “I love you _so much_.”

Victor takes Yuuri’s hand into his own and twines their fingers together. Victor keeps telling Yuuri that he loves him, that he’s beautiful, that Victor’s so _lucky_ , until words start dissolving into heavy pants of the breath and quiet moans that Yuuri kisses silent.

 

* * *

 

Mid-August is when Victor, Yuuri and Makkachin move into a bigger apartment. He originally plans on a two-bedroom and will use the second room as a bigger studio, but after excessive whining from his mother (“But _Vitya~_ where will my grandchildren sleep?”), they move into a three-bedroom flat. Victor’s not making any promises about children. Makkachin’s a wonderful child already far as Victor’s concerned. 

“Why didn’t you throw out all this crap before you moved?” Yuri spits as he unboxes more of Victor’s art supplies and sketchbooks. Victor chuckles, setting up his easel in the corner of his new studio area.

“Maybe I will if it’s just scrap work,” Victor says. He needs to look through his materials and see if he has enough to work with for an art fair coming up in late November. He’s only going to be able to submit one piece of work since he wants to devote time to Yuuri's birthday, but maybe if there’s some decent sketches-

“ _EW!_ ” Yuri screams and something is flung across the room. Victor looks at his brother screaming with his hands over his eyes, then at the black sketchbook flung against the wall. Yuuri is running into the room in only a matter of seconds, worry filling his eyes.

“What’s going on? Yuri? What is it?” Yuuri quickly asks. Yuri gets to his feet, shooting a dirty look at Victor and then at Yuuri.

“I’m going to wash my eyes out with soap,” he grumbles and gives an exaggerated shudder, dodging Yuuri’s concerning hand to run out of the studio. Victor blinks, turning to Yuuri with a confused look in his eyes. He then walks over, picking up the sketchbook Yuri chucked across the room. The spine is bent, but it’s an old sketchbook so Victor’s not that bothered by it. The pages are still intact at least. He flips open and pauses.

Oh.

Whoops.

Yuuri approaches Victor to look as well, eyes widening in mild horror when he sees the charcoal drawing of him splayed out nude with the sultriest of looks.

“V-Victor!” Yuuri exclaims, hands going up to his face. Victor flips to another page, an image of Yuuri crying out in ecstasy that he couldn’t get out of his head until he drew it in colored pencils filling up the entire page. Ah, that was a good night. It’s always a good night whenever Yuuri is the one to make the first move.

“You’re so sexy, my beautiful muse,” Victor says and flips to another page where Yuuri is lying down with colorful handprints decorating his body, exuding eros from every inch of his skin. Yuuri reaches over and snatches the book out of Victor’s hands, clutching it to his chest.

“ _Stooop_. Oh my god, don’t you care your brother saw me _naked_ looking like _this?_ ” Yuuri exclaims and buries his face into the book. “He won’t be able to look me. Just when we were getting along so well too,” Yuuri says, hurt. Victor goes over and rubs Yuuri’s shoulders.

“He’s not going to look at you any differently. Besides, I’m sure he didn’t see anything _too graphic_ ,” Victor fawns and Yuuri flips through the pages.

“ _Every_ _page_ is graphic! It’s like I’m reading a Playboy where I’m the only model,” Yuuri groans and Victor smiles, hands going down to rest over Yuuri’s behind.

“I’m sorry,” Victor apologizes and gives Yuuri’s ass a little squeeze, “do you want me to get rid of it?” he asks. Yuuri pouts, looks down at the book, bites the inside of his cheek, then brings it back up to his face.

“Mm.”

“You’ll have to move the book so I can hear you, solnyshko,” Victor says with a little smile. He kisses Yuuri’s forehead, then pushes the book down so he can kiss Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri kisses him back and lets the sketchbook fall between them, easily forgotten as Victor lifts Yuuri up into his arms and Yuuri’s legs wrap around Victor’s waist.

Yuuri pulls back, breathing heavy over Victor’s mouth. “Your back-”

“It’s fine,” Victor pants and kisses Yuuri feverishly, stumbling forward to press Yuuri up against the wall. Yuuri whimpers into his mouth, digging his hand into Victor’s hair. Yuuri’s glasses are crooked on his face, red blooming all over his skin. Victor groans at how _sexy_ Yuuri looks and kisses Yuuri’s Adam’s apple, letting Yuuri get some needed air.

“Don’t get rid of it,” Yuuri breathes, cradling Victor’s face. “I like posing for you. I think it’s really hot,” he blurts, biting back his cry when Victor rolls his hips upwards. The bed still needs to be assembled and boxes still need to be unpacked, but _god._ He sees it in Yuuri’s eyes and Victor feels his arousal building in his gut. The entire apartment has hardwood flooring except for the tiles in the bathroom. Both sound like a pain to lie down on. Maybe the couch-

“ ** _Oh gross!_** ”

Ah, he forgot Yuri is still here.

Victor turns to the doorway and hears Yuri already stomping away. “I’m going for a walk and I’m taking Makkachin with me! You two _better_ be decent by the time we get back!” Yuri yells and Makkachin gives an excited bark. Victor hears the door slam shut a few seconds after and hums. He turns back to Yuuri, who is hiding his face in his hands.

“We’re supposed to be adults and we’re acting like two sex-crazed teenagers,” Yuuri groans into his hands. Victor kisses Yuuri’s fingers, then gives a peck to Yuuri’s lips when Yuuri moves his hands aside. He adjusts his grip on Yuuri when he feels him slipping, huffing out a breath because his back is starting to hurt a _little_ bit. Not that he’s getting old or anything. Nothing like that. Nope.

“Sorry. . .seeing those drawings of you just turned me on,” Victor admits with a cheeky little grin.

“You got turned on by your _own art?_ ” Yuuri asks and rolls his eyes, threading his fingers through Victor’s hair. “You never fail to surprise me, Vitenka,” Yuuri deadpans. That term of endearment _never_ fails to get Victor riled up. He shudders out a warm breath and kisses Yuuri, who complies with ease. Yuuri pulls back and rubs his thumb over Victor’s cheekbone.

“This is getting uncomfortable,” Yuuri winces, bracing his hand against the wall Victor’s pressing him into. Victor apologizes and lets his boyfriend down, arms still wrapped around his waist. Yuuri fixes his glasses and sucks in a breath. “Why don’t we just. . .work on unpacking?” Yuuri suggests and Victor pouts.

“But _solnyshko~_ ”

“Victor, Yuri saw a drawing of me naked and caught us trying to have sex against a wall. I do _not_ want him and Makkachin walking in on us,” Yuuri says and pauses, “. . .plus, I don’t know which box has the lube in it.”

“. . .What if I _find_ the lube?” Victor suggests and Yuuri hums. He wraps his arms around Victor’s neck and leans up to pull Victor’s lower lip in between his teeth, then runs his tongue across the area he bit.

“If you’re quick about it, _maybe_ ,” Yuuri’s lips say. His eyes say ‘ _absolutely. I’ll even get a blanket_.’

Victor’s eyes dilate and swirl with eagerness as Yuuri smiles. “But there’s a _lot_ of boxes,” Yuuri points out and saunters out of the room.

Something that Victor has realized in the time living with Yuuri is that the skater has a very sexy walk, one that makes his hips wiggle from left to right and gets _sexier_ when Yuuri has put on a little bit of weight. It’s like watching Jell-O bounce up and down; Victor doesn’t know if Yuuri does it on purpose because he knows Victor’s watching, or if it’s another one of Yuuri’s naturally sexy habits.

Either way, it makes him tear through boxes in search for the bottle _fast_.

Yuri comes back with Makkachin about an hour later. He doesn’t make a comment on how Victor’s shirt is on inside out and doesn’t question why the apartment is messier than when he left it.

On the drive home, Yuri leans back in his seat and clicks his tongue.

“I’m _never_ coming over your place again,” he spits.

“You don’t mean that. You love us too much,” Victor says with a smile. Yuri clicks his tongue again and turns to glare out the window.

“Don’t know why,” he grumbles and switches on the radio.

 

* * *

 

September and October are a blur. Victor spends most of his time working on special projects and his piece for the art fair. Yuuri becomes a student-aid at the local high school for teaching experience and to Yuri’s mild chagrin – and Victor’s amusement – is assigned to Yuri’s homeroom class. Victor teases Yuri over dinner that he better be getting good grades, because Victor will know.  Yuri responds by kicking Victor’s shin under the table. 

They go out from time to time with Phichit and his new roommate Seung-Gil, who is _way_ different from Phichit’s bright and sunny personality. Victor thought they could bond over the fact that they’re both dog owners, but Seung-Gil pretty much ignores anyone that isn’t Phichit (and even then, he only acknowledges Phichit with responses under ten words).

In the first week of Novemeber, the outdoor rink opens for the season. It becomes their Friday night date spot. Sometimes Yuri and Mila tag along, other times it’s Phichit and Seung-Gil. Victor spends less time drawing Yuuri skating and more time out on the ice with him, arms locked tight and skating so slowly that they need to hug the wall to not be in anyone else’s way.

“Who are we spending Christmas with?” Yuuri asks him one night over a stack of quizzes needing to be graded. Victor sits beside him and helps put the stickers on the quizzes with a good grade; Yuri gets one for every correct answer so he knows how proud Victor is.

“We can spend it together. Mama loves having lots of family over for the holidays, so I’m sure she’d like it,” Victor suggests. He gives Yuri an extra five stickers, because he loves his baby brother so much.

“What do you want for your birthday, my beautiful muse?” Victor asks and Yuuri hums.

“. . .I don’t know. . .what do you want for _your_ birthday?” Yuuri answers with another question.

“Your love is already the best thing I can ever receive as a gift,” Victor says. It rolls off his tongue so easily, and he still feels warmth in his chest every time he remembers that Yuuri loves him and Yuuri is all his.

Yuuri hides his reddened face with the quizzes and groans. “I love you,” he says into the papers and Victor smiles.

“I love you too,” he says and pulls the papers away to kiss him.

 

* * *

 

Victor and Yuuri celebrate Yuuri’s birthday three times. The first is the weekend before, with his mother cooking Yuuri a big dinner and happily showing him how to make certain dishes for her future grandchild. She gifts Yuuri a knitted sweater, scarf, hat, and mittens to keep warm in the winter and all in beautiful shades of blue. Yuri gives Yuuri a leather jacket that had a claw mark decal on the back, so Yuuri doesn’t look so dorky in class with the marshmallow coat he currently owns. He accepts both presents with a big hug and an even bigger smile that just makes Victor melt. 

The second time is on Yuuri’s actual birthday, which they spend the entire day with Yuuri’s family and friends of family at the inn. Victor finally meets Yuuri’s friend Yuko and her husband, along with their three girls. They’re cute; precocious and cute. They ask Victor non-stop questions on how much he loves Yuuri and share with Victor all Yuuri’s embarrassing moments that they can remember. Yuuri will give an indignant squawk about such stories being shared at the table and Yuko will scold her children every time they promise to stop, but continue to gossip with Victor anyways.

They take a bath together, which transitions into sex, and then another bath to clean up. Yuuri’s bed is still too small for them both to sleep in even without Makkachin, but they still try to make it work anyways.

“You haven’t given me your birthday present yet,” Yuuri murmurs after round three – or maybe four, Victor’s lost count – of birthday lovemaking. Victor breathes heavily beside him, cracking open the window by Yuuri’s bed so it doesn’t stink like sweat in Yuuri’s room when they go to sleep.

“It’s being made. I’m sorry it’s coming so late,” Victor pants and Yuuri blinks up at him.

“What is it?”

“A surprise is what it is,” Victor says and boops Yuuri’s nose.

“More mittens?”

“Nope,” Victor murmurs and kisses Yuuri’s cheek. “You’ll find out soon, solnyshko,” he says, threading his fingers through Yuuri’s hair and closes his eyes.

The third time is the Saturday after Yuuri’s birthday, the first Saturday of December. Phichit throws one big belated birthday bash at the karaoke bar, and invites as many friends as possible that can fit in the booth. It’s loud and chaotic, filled with laughter and bad singing and Yuuri slumping up against his shoulder drunk from all the alcohol Phichit orders for him.

They sing ‘Happy Birthday’ twenty times over the course of the night and eventually Seung-Gil is the one that _finally_ suggests everyone go home before the staff kicks them out. Victor carries Yuuri to the car and helps buckle him in, listening to Yuuri’s drunk ramblings with a smile on his face and a comment thrown in here or there.

“ _Vitennka~_ ” Yuuri whines when Victor opens the door to their apartment and closes it shut with his foot. Yuuri’s leaving sloppy kisses against Victor’s throat, one hand clumsily trying to undo the front of Victor’s jeans. Victor pulls Yuuri’s hand away, shaking his head.

“No, my beautiful muse, not right now. Let’s get you to bed, okay?” Victor says and kisses Yuuri’s hair that stinks of triple sec and vodka. He sits Yuuri on the couch first and pulls off Yuuri’s shoes, while Yuuri begs and whines for Victor. Makkachin crawls up into Yuuri’s lap and Yuuri starts crying at how soft Makkachin’s fur is and it feels like angels are hugging him.

Victor helps Yuuri to the bathroom where he vomits, holding his glasses and rubbing his back in small circles. He cleans Yuuri up, strips him down to his underwear, and leads Yuuri into the bedroom to lie down.

“Want some water?” Victor asks, pushing Yuuri’s bangs out of his face.

“ _Vitenka,_ just fuck me already~” Yuuri slurrs.

“Right, water it is.”

Victor leaves to grab a water bottle from the fridge and a banana moon pie from the cupboard. He makes Yuuri drink the bottle halfway, then have a few bites of the moon pie. Yuuri starts crying again as he eats, banana custard all over his mouth.

“I’m so pathetic,” he sniffles. “When are you going to break up with me?” he asks and Victor smiles.

“Never,” he says. He knows that Yuuri doesn’t know what he’s saying and won’t remember any of this, but Victor will still answer the same way even if he asked sober.

“Will you marry me?” Yuuri asks and presents the half-eaten moon pie like it is a golden ring. Victor chuckles, cupping Yuuri’s cheek.

“Of course, my beautiful muse,” Victor says and takes the moon pie away to rest on the nightstand, then wipes Yuuri’s mouth and face as his boyfriend cries even harder. Victor pulls him into a tender hug, kissing his forehead.

“I love you,” Victor murmurs.

“I _know_ ,” Yuuri sobs.

 

* * *

 

One week before Christmas Eve, Victor asks to take Yuuri out for a walk. 

The snowfall is light and the temperatures aren’t as freezing as they were a year ago. Victor feels Yuuri’s head resting on his bicep as they stroll towards the park, Makkachin bounding a few feet ahead of them and trying to catch snowflakes in his mouth. Behind them, Yuri and Mila and Phichit are all talking about their plans for Christmas and Phichit’s New Year’s Eve party, trying to guess what shitty present is going to wrap up in this year’s White Elephant exchange.

“I thought we were going to be alone tonight,” Yuuri says, squeezing Victor’s arm.

“You don’t like them tagging along?” Victor asks.

“I just think it’s strange that all three of them just so happened to be in the café we stopped by and wanted to tag along. We’re just going out for a walk in the park,” Yuuri comments.

Their new apartment is closer to the park with the gazebo instead of the one with the skating rink. It’s as quiet as it was last year, Christmas lights in the bare branch trees above them.

“Don’t wander off too far Makkachin!” Victor shouts out to his poodle frolicking in the snow where its deeper.

“Oh! Victor!” Phichit calls from behind him and Victor turns, Phichit glancing around at the area and at the tree the couple is standing under bathing them in a warm glow. “This is a good spot!” he says and busts out his phone along with Mila. Yuuri looks over his shoulder at Phichit, then at Victor.

“Good spot for what? A marriage proposal?” Yuuri jokes and Victor laughs along with him, bright and warm.

Then, Victor gets down on one knee and takes Yuuri’s mitten-clad hands into his own.

“Exactly!” Victor proclaims. From behind him, Victor hears a camera shutter going off.

Victor squeezes Yuuri’s hands and runs his tongue over his lower lip, a puff of warm breath leaving his lips as he smiles.

“Yuuri Katsuki, you are the love of my life and the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. I will be the _luckiest_ man in the world if you will give me the pleasure-”

Yuuri’s hands pull away from Victor’s grasp.

They follow the movement of Yuuri’s body as his eyes roll back into his skull and-

 

_Whump!_

 

It takes about thirty seconds for everyone still conscious to stop panicking and dig Yuuri out of the snow he fainted in, lying him down over Victor's coat with his head in Victor’s lap and Mila elevating his legs.

Yuuri comes to after a few minutes of Phichit gently shaking him and Yuri (worriedly) yelling at him to 'wake the fuck up', while Makkachin tries to worm his way into their huddle to see if there’s anything _he_ can do.

His eyelashes flutter behind his glasses that are crooked on his face, Victor’s hands moving to cup and warm his cheeks.

“Solnyshko, are you alright?” Victor asks and Yuuri blinks.

“Yeah. . .yeah I’m fine,” Yuuri answers. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief and Makkachin licks Yuuri’s face in joy. Victor smiles, fixing Yuuri’s glasses.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks

“. . .You asked me to marry you,” Yuuri murmurs and blinks. “. . .I said ‘yes’ before I fainted, right?”

“If the sound of you hitting the ground is supposed to be a ‘yes’, then you did,” Yuri says dryly. Mila gives him a nudge in the stomach.

Yuuri groans and brings his hands to his face.

“I’m so embarrassing,” Yuuri says into his hands and Victor smiles.

“You didn’t even let me finish proposing to you,” Victor says, rubbing his thumb over Yuuri’s cheekbone. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box, opening it for Yuuri to see a white gold band with a single diamond embed on the surface and ‘ _my beautiful muse_ ’ engraved on the inside.

“Do you want me to restart or pick up where I left off?” Victor asks Yuuri, while Phichit quickly gets his phone back out to document this moment. 

“Start over. Everything is still a blur,” Yuuri says, trying to push himself up into a sitting position, but Victor keeps him down.

“Just stay down for a second, solnyshko,” Victor says and reaches to hold Yuuri’s hand resting over his heart. “ _Yuuri Katsuki_ ,” Victor starts and squeezes Yuuri’s hand, “you are the love of my life and the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. I will be the _luckiest_ man in the world if you will give me the pleasure of being at your side for the rest of our lives. . .still with me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuuri breathes and Victor slips the mitten off Yuuri’s left hand, bringing it up to kiss his ring finger.

“Will you marry me?” Victor asks against Yuuri’s knuckle.

“He already said ‘yes’,” Yuri answers, but he’s smiling regardless. Mila and Phichit are beaming as Yuuri awkwardly starts shaking his head in a ‘yes’ motion and Victor slips the ring on his finger.

It fits perfectly.

 

* * *

 

Victor is the first one to wake up on a Sunday morning in January.

He slips out of Yuuri’s embrace and past Makkachin, grabbing sweatpants out of the laundry basket as he passes by. Victor closes the bedroom door shut behind him, then heads to the kitchen to _finally_ prepare breakfast. He’s learned enough from assisting Yuuri in the kitchen, so he’s sure that he can whip up something edible on his own.

He opens the curtains to let the crawl of the sunlight’s rays enter their kitchen, then washes his hands and sets out to make some pancakes. When Victor finds a half-eaten bag of chocolate morsels in the fridge, he decides to make some of them chocolate chip.

This is a nice feeling, Victor thinks. Not just making pancakes for his beautiful fiancé he can still hear snoring down the hall even with the door closed, but just _this_. This kitchen that’s bigger than his old one and Victor spends more time in cooking with Yuuri. The boxes stacked in the corner that they have yet to unpack even though they’ve been in this new home for five months. This. . .quiet satisfaction of being in love with Yuuri, of love they’re both experiencing and learning for the first time, is a nice feeling.

Victor has long grown out of those fever dreams of kissing every inch of Yuuri’s body; he’s grown past the aching desire of longing to touch Yuuri’s skin. Not that he doesn’t feel them from time to time, just less. He still loves Yuuri, he still sings praises about his beauty, and he still finds himself inspired by him, even when Yuuri is doing nothing but standing still.

Victor tells Yuuri ‘I love you’, then wonders if he says that phrase too much. Whenever Victor finds one of Yuuri’s sticky notes he leaves before heading out to work - asking to buy milk or some other thing - and Yuuri signs it with ‘ _I love you_ ’ and a little heart, Victor wonders if he doesn’t say the phrase enough. It’s a little bit of both; Victor and Yuuri promise to be together forever, the manifestation of that promise as the rings around both of their fingers, but forever still isn’t long enough to tell Yuuri how much Victor loves him and how much Yuuri loves Victor.

Victor still drops the ball from time to time, still makes mistakes. So does Yuuri, but they struggle through it together. It’s far from being perfect, but it works for them. That’s all that matters.

When Victor starts to grease up a skillet, he hears the bedroom door creak open and the soft pads of bare feet against the hardwood floor. Arms wrap around his bare torso and he feels Yuuri nuzzle in between his shoulder blades.

“Vitenka,” Yuuri mumbles, “why are you awake?”

“I wanted to make you pancakes,” Victor says, showing off the lumpy batter. Yuuri hums, then takes the whisk from Victor and blends the ingredients better to smooth it out. He hands it back, then leans up to kiss Victor on the cheek.

“I love you,” Yuuri says, eyes barely open and hair resembling a bird’s nest. He’s not even wearing pants, but Victor’s oversized shirt that slips off the shoulder covers enough.

“I love you too,” Victor says and Yuuri smiles.

Yeah, he’ll never get tired of saying that either.

Victor figures that love is like art. Subjective at most, unappreciated by others, easy to misinterpret, and is its best when refined over time through hard work.

Their love, their _art_ , is by far the finest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: 1/14 - [HERES](http://sterndecorum.tumblr.com/post/154151798733/i-love-this-fic-so-much-3-bg-credit-more-from) [MORE](http://asariii.tumblr.com/post/154427355391/soi-was-wondering-if-maybeyou-mind-being-in-my) [ART!!!!!](http://wei--en.tumblr.com/post/155866664348/do-you-want-to-see-victor-asks-as-yuuri-pulls) [THANK](http://theannieparadigm.tumblr.com/post/154283936563/giftart-3) [YOU](http://dandunhowells.tumblr.com/post/155596327634/i-cant-seem-to-get-the-damn-camera-to-focus-but-i)
> 
> this is how bad episode 9 fracked me up. 
> 
> i was expecting feels, but not THOSE feels. am i upset that yuuri barely scraped by into the GPF and we still have little information about victor's life before yuuri? yes. did i ugly cry at the airport scene and watched it over twenty times and still cried every time? also yes. ugh that is some writing that i hope to create someday. just. this is such a good show guys and I'm so happy that i wrote this fic and I'm getting super emotional cause this fic is over and I'm so HAPPY so many people like it even though the chapters are ridiculously long and they probably could have been better had i not churned out 100K in one month (I'm so embarrassing who the fuck does that jfc i love this show and this ship too much OTL)
> 
> *minor gushing IM CALLING IT GUYS OTABEKSWAG WE FINALLY HAVE THE SWAG SKATER OTABEK COOL COOLER COOLESTO I CANT WAIT TILL NEXT WEEK*
> 
> thank you all so much for sticking with me and reading this stupidly sappy and dumb fic. I'm so mediocre and there's still better fics in this fandom with better flow but I'm happy that so many people still found this fic of mine entertaining. i'm going to miss screaming with everyone in the notes and comments for the next three episodes, so if you want to talk to me, i'm at [ ebenroot on tumblr ](http://ebenroot.tumblr.com) and i would very much appreciate it if i had ~~some friends~~ some people to scream with cause ep 10 look like it gonna murder me and dance on my grave.
> 
> but yeah! thank you all so much guh this was a rollercoaster of emotions I'm still ugly crying just thinking about victor and yuuri this is such a great fandom I'm definitely going to write more as long as someone will be willing to read it OTL


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